Bad luck
by albstanton
Summary: A rather ill-timed lapse in concentration lands cell in a spot of bother. If he thought one Gohan was bad enough...
1. Chapter 1

Out of all of the illogical, crazy, stupid things mortals had the tendency to do, the god's found _revenge_ to be the one that took the cake. Yes, many gods had spent eons deliberating over the nature of revenge, and why it was such an integral part of mortal behaviour. To beings of logic and transcendence from the universe, the whole idea of it just didn't make sense.

Revenge was one of those things that couldn't really be categorised as an emotion. Sure it was driven by emotion, anger, hatred, despair, jealousy, righteousness, but it didn't really wholly fit into any of them.

The concept (If you could call it that) was irrational, yet people would commit their lives, and if circumstances dictated so, their afterlives into seeking it.

Why bother fighting tooth and nail to take action against something that had already happened? Did they not understand time? Or cause and effect? Changing the future cannot alter the past, that was one of the fundamental building blocks of time, the fourth dimension, and thus the universe.

Nevertheless, the universe was an old place, incomprehensibly so, and the gods resigned to the idea a long time ago that for all their immeasurable logic and power, the mortals were something they would never truly understand.

Cell was an interesting case. One of those few examples of someone seeking revenge even after they had passed onto the next realm, or "otherworld" as it was dubbed amongst the inhabitants of the android's home planet.

Sure it had happened before. Hell, plenty of miscreants, tyrants and spoiled brats had involuntarily journeyed to the land of the dead and spent their days plotting against those who had sent them there, and in many cases, their families, friends and even pets were included in whatever dark plans had been concocted..

But Cell was different. For starters he was an android, which in itself was a whole new topic for the god's to not understand. (yet another thing they had the mortals to thank for.) Secondly was the fact that he was even in the area of otherworld known as hell to begin with. Which answered a few of the god's (and mortal's) questions about the nature of souls.

Most of all however, was how Cell was even defeated in the first place. He was by mortal standards, pretty much perfect, just as his self-proclaimed title and boasting would suggest. The android was the ultimate blend of the galaxies greatest fighters, which as luck would have it, put him pretty high in the universes best fighters as well.

Yet even after he had absorbed his siblings into his being, a story which the god's would always deem as one of the most illogical episodes in the universe's history, he still found a way to be destroyed. It didn't make sense. Any of it.

Cell was unstoppable, incomprehensibly powerful and above all else cunning beyond his years. Goku, Vegeta, Gohan, Piccolo, Krillin, Freeza, King Cold, Tien and Yamcha all made up his cells, and he was the culmination of all their greatest traits and powers.

Within him he held the ruthless tenacity of Vegeta, coupled with the insatiable urge to conquer and dominate that came from Freeza and his father. Above all else however, was the desire for power, which could have come from any one of his contributors. Anyone's first guess would be that it had originated from one of the Saiyans, it was what made them tick after all.

But that didn't matter, not really anyway. The point was, Cell was perfect, P.E.R.F.E.C.T. and yet he had been beaten, humiliated, and borderline tortured out of existence by an eleven-year old boy. A boy whose skin and brain and bone and hair had aged a year beyond the time he had existed in the living realm. Another abnormality.

How had any of this happened? To a god it was enough to drive anyone crazy. They were creatures of knowledge and order after all. In fact, the only similarity that could be drawn between all of the countless immortals that existed within the countless stars of the cosmos, was their shared desire of knowledge and understanding.

It was the talk of the universe at the moment. The boy, Gohan didn't know it, but he was revered as a hero throughout the galaxies by his mortal peers, and given the guilt that the little half-Saiyan had been feeling considering what had happened, he wasn't sure it was a title he fully welcomed or deserved.

Further unbeknownst to him was that he had been given the name "Aseedus" by the god's, which literally translated to anomaly.


	2. Chapter 2

Cell wasn't sure what annoyed him more – Hell, or the people that lived there.

To think that there was so much fear surrounding the idea of it.

Hell was tame.

Tame wasn't the word actually. Hell was boring.

Cell had never been so bored in all his life. Even those years he had spent in his larval form nestled tightly underground, hidden away from the light and the air and the people that he would end up harvesting upon, that was nothing in comparison to this.

There was nothing to do. No people to terrorise, no power to obtain. Everyone had been experiencing the so called horror of hell for centuries now, which kind of served in desensitising them from the whole idea of it.

That was the trouble he realised, you spend enough time doing anything and you're gonna get bored of it.

Well nearly anything…

If only there was just one person he could at least scare a little. Maybe one of those pesky little office demons would do the trick. Although he didn't want to be further into King Yemma's bad side than he already was. _Heaven_ forbid he was sent anywhere more tedious than this dump.

That was another thing he hated – lack of authority. Cell had spent his entire existence up to this point being drip-fed the notion that he was the ultimate power in the universe, so naturally when he was at the mercy of another living creature, he found it hard to take.

Lack of sanity was never something an android could ever experience, their brains were hardwired against such things, literally. With that being said though, Cell wasn't sure how much longer he could cope in here.

Somewhere deep within the circuits in his head that contained his programming, one word was flashing with the steady rhythm of his artificial heart, _revenge._

It was the only thing sustaining him, the only good thing he could really think of at the moment.

It had been twelve months since he had been sent here. And not a minute ticked by where he didn't contemplate the idea of killing Son Gohan.

A year was a long time to spend in hell by anyone's books. And so desperation had taken hold in his mind. He didn't want to make Son Gohan suffer, like the boy had done to him. He only wanted to kill him, he didn't care how quickly, or how painlessly it was, he just knew that Son Gohan had to die.

It must have been the Saiyan-inherited pride, ironically. If the boy died, and he had killed him, then they were even, and no one could think that Gohan was the stronger of the two.

Everyone was thinking it, he knew it, he could see it on their faces, that's why he spent his time alone.

Freeza and his insufferable father served only to annoy him further. Even if they too shared a burning hatred for all-things-Son.

It was the arrogance of the man. Cell was well aware that the ridiculously named King Cold had spent the last moments of his life begging for mercy and renouncing his wicked ways at the feet of the Saiyan - Trunks. A boy whom Cell himself had obliterated, albeit in another timeline. So how the hulking fool could wear such an omnipresent smirk of self-satisfaction was beyond him.

And then there was that Pikkon incident. Yet another blow to his shattered pride. To be defeated so easily by someone that resembled a Namekian was humiliating enough, but to have it done in the presence of Son Goku, someone who for some reason Cell still considered to be his ultimate enemy, was truly preposterous.

Goku, now there was a funny one. In the days building up to the "Cell games" (a name the android still remembered with much fondness) Cell actually held a resentful respect for Goku. He was the ultimate enemy. The warrior that stood for everything he sought to destroy.

But it was deeper than that. Son Goku resembled the time when Cell had been in control. Where everything was going to plan. Absorb the androids, kill Goku, destroy all life in the universe, a convenient checklist.

Those were the better moments of his life. The thrill of the hunt, finding 17 and 18 had proven to be the most fun he'd had, in well…forever. And then there was the idea of the "perfect power." That was everything he ever wanted, every waking moment was dedicated into finding and absorbing those androids, for the promise of the ultimate form that Gero intended to be his greatest ever creation. It all seemed so magical back then. Don't get him wrong, Cell's power was everything that he was ever promised and more, but there's something to be said about the perfection of an idea.

At least fate had ascertained that Cell keep his perfect form even after death. In fact, it was before that, yes he remembered, he had returned. Even after Son Goku had transported the two of them half way across the galaxy and he had blown them all and the planet they were on to smithereens, he had somehow survived.

The genius of his design brought him back from the brink and he was stronger than ever, maybe he was even as strong as Son Gohan, maybe.

Of course he couldn't have been. Gohan had blown him away, with one arm no less.

But before that, yes, that was what he liked to remember. The boy's face after he had returned. It had nearly all been worth it for that. The beating, the humiliation, just for that one moment, the utter look of sheer consternation laced with despair on young Gohan's pale face. The boy still had puppy fat, and it had made it all the sweeter to see his tears collect on his chubby cheeks.

But before that, _no._

He shuddered.

It was best not to think about that particular Monster.

"So you want another crack at Gohan?"

"Who's there?!"

* * *

Grief had come in stages for Son Gohan, but not in the predictable way one might expect.

First there was guilt. Oh Kami did he feel guilty. Sleepless nights accompanied by random fits. As he recalled, that was the worst stage.

The first few times he had managed to get any shuteye were haunted by some of the most graphic and oddly peculiar dreams he had ever experienced in his young life.

Nightmares were somewhat of a norm for Son Gohan. He was in the business of saving the world, and indeed other worlds, and by extension had dealt with his fair share of trauma. But nothing could have prepared him or as the young man wagered - anyone for what his brain had in store for him on those first few nights of sleep.

Goku's trademark smile had never looked so perverse as when his severed head was being crushed underneath Gohan's booted foot.

Then there was despair. Chichi, Kami bless her had never really shaken that particular stage of grief off. She had spent more time crying than not for the first few months, but slowly, the monotonous duties and chores of the mother of a Saiyan found the Son's most hardened family member again. Chichi was perhaps, the strongest of all the Z-fighters as they were so aptly named, although she wouldn't dare allow her good name to be thrown in the mix with such a wild group of ruffians. She did have them to thank (begrudgingly) for the safety of her little boy, even if she'd scarcely admit it, and that to her, was all that really mattered.

Gohan prided himself on being someone who didn't cry. But even he found it difficult to hold back the tears, especially when his dear mother couldn't hold her own. But they found solace in one-and-other, and as time went on, Gohan and Chichi became closer than they had ever been before. Sure Gohan had loved his Mother with all his heart before any of those terrible things had happened, but he had never quite respected her like he had now. Chichi was strong, dependant, fierce and in a strange, often-ignored way, angelic. Everyone knew she was prone to fits of vented rage (something Gohan was all too familiar with himself) but there was another side to her that seemed to go unnoticed. Chichi was a princess after all.

Then everything changed. Gohan was to be a brother. And for the first time since Son Goku had left this world to stay in the next, Gohan was truly happy.

It didn't last long.

Fear, that's what came next.

If he was being honest, it was more like paranoia. Gohan couldn't leave the house without spending every waking second worrying about his mother and yet-to-be-born sibling.

One time as he recalled, he was returning from a shopping run in East city when he could sense an unfamiliar ki within the vicinity of mount Paozu. It wasn't long before he had intercepted a young man, no older than sixteen and had him on the floor begging for his life.

That was the last time anyone would accidently venture into their neck of the woods again. Vegeta would have been proud.

Chichi had grown tiresome of Gohan's overprotectiveness, a woman really couldn't have any peace and quiet when her son was constantly looking over her shoulder for her. She knew it was all in the name of love, as it were, but it was getting far too much.

That's when Chichi had sat her son down, and told him to ease off a little.

Which lead to the next stage – self-loathing.

To say poor Gohan had taken his mother's talk the wrong way would have been the biggest understatement of that particular year.

And to say Gohan spent too much time in his room perhaps would have come second.

He was convinced that he had failed, so much so that he didn't even know what it was he was failing at, but he was certain it was all his fault.

Everything was his fault, that was the problem.

So much was expected of Son Gohan, the son of the greatest fighter who ever lived and eventual heir to the Ox kingdom. Destiny had brought the weight of great expectations upon his shoulders, and it would be insincere of Gohan to tell anyone that he wasn't just a little overwhelmed with the pressure that befell his family name.

And like a dam with a crack, pressure had persevered.

Any boy who was subjected to the wrath of an intergalactic tyrant, six months of wilderness training with a demon and a day of watching closest friends and family be tortured by a throng of miniature androids was bound to have issues.

On the whole though, Gohan had actually dealt with everything that had happened in his bizarre, fantastic and disastrous life with flying colours.

That was until he and Chichi had sat down for that little talk.

Pregnancy had gotten the better of Chichi. As any mother would tell you, carrying another lifeform inside one's body for any extended period of time was difficult enough, but to do it shortly after losing a husband, and furthermore to do it with a son who would murder anyone who so much as looked at her the wrong way was next to impossible.

When Gohan had been invited downstairs by his Mother on that cold September's night, he wasn't really sure what to expect.

"You're smothering me a little."

The way how she had said it. The bags that had collected under her eyes, apparently Gohan wasn't the only person losing sleep.

She just looked so weak.

He had to protect her.

Only, he was failing that as well apparently.

Gohan had inherited a generally optimistic approach to life from his late father, and slowly but surely it had been weathered and battered by the tragic circumstances that seemed _so_ intrinsically locked to his existence that it might as well have made up the bone in his spine.

But this was the breaking point.

Chichi remembered those few weeks with a bitter taste in her mouth, it didn't help that she had spent a lot of that period throwing up, something she was grateful her son didn't have to see. Hell, before, Gohan probably would been shadowing her, pulling matted black locks away from her face as to not stain them with whatever odd craving she had dealt with that particular day. No, that was a job for a husband or a best friend after all, and Gohan was a son first, friend second, and as for husband, he might make an exceptional one someday, but to her he would always be a little angel.

For once in his life, Gohan actually found studying to be therapeutic. If his mother wouldn't let him protect her physically, then he had to be smart about it.

All that was needed was the acquisition of knowledge.

It would be fair to assume that Gohan already knew deep down that there was no answer to his problems scribbled down somewhere on some unexplored page on one of his many textbooks. Schools just didn't have the solutions for his kind of issues.

It had never really occurred to him how crazy he was going until he was checking a two-week old answer sheet to seek help for some convoluted maths equation, only to find an extensively detailed diagram of a wall surrounding what appeared to be a crudely drawn picture of the Son house.

Gohan hadn't laughed so much since Krillin had suckered his dad into helping him out of that river, only to drag him in and underwater himself.

Again, positivity didn't last long.

There was an air of frustration. Sure Gohan was making progress on his school work, and sure he was starting to engage in literature and scientific works that far exceeded the expectations of anyone his age, but what did any of it matter?

Did Son Gohan's life have a purpose?

Was being a fighter really such a bad fate?

At least then he would have purpose, and everything wouldn't seem so…pointless.

He remembered the exact moment when he, the warrior son of Son Goku, decided that fighting was not his calling in life.

 _Krillin's tortured body danced up and down the cruel spikes of his murderer._

 _Those few moments had come as quickly and as silently as a spirit. One moment, the tyrant was there, standing proudly beside the backdrop of one of Namek's jade lakes. The next, he had Krillin impaled upon his head. Gohan could hear the sound of pointed horn slicing through thick lungs. Warm, crimson blood exploded out of the entry and splattered down onto the dusty ground which was caressed warmly by the triumvirate of gentle suns that bathed the emerald planet._

 _Everything was silent save for the shrill laughter of the tyrant. His now deepened voice punctuating the horror of his monstrous transformation. Freeza was a monster, Gohan knew it now._

 _Before, when he had slaughtered those defenceless Namekian children, that was the act of a warlord, it was nothing but business to him. But now, as Krillin's lifeless form hung on those spikes, Gohan knew, he just knew, that they were dealing with a monster._

 _Goku had told him a long time ago that it was his job to make the monsters go away._

 _But Goku wasn't here._

 _And Krillin's mutilated body was sailing aimlessly to the bottom of some murky lake._

 _And Krillin had already died once before._

 _And Krillin was his father's best friend._

 _That's when it happened. Gohan gave into that singing. That heavenly, hellish voice that accented every battle he experienced, every punch, every kick, every thought. He let his power take hold of his body, mind and spirit. He submitted to the Saiyan in him. Anger became fuel, senses pathed way for blazing emotion, nothing mattered, except making that bastard pay._

 _In a flash, Gohan had pummelled the monster down to the floor, it had only taken a few ki infused punches and the element of surprise._

 _Somewhere, in the back of his emblazoned mind, Gohan savoured the brief flash of terror that gleamed for a fraction of a second in the monster's eyes._

 _Years of experience had taught Gohan to fight with his ki, and even in his impassioned state he had enough whereabouts to harness it. The glowing ball of crackling yellow energy he was commanding illuminated the dullish green sky to the point where it would have blinded any surviving Namekian foolish enough to reframe from shielding his eyes, such was the magnitude of his furious power._

 _With a primal scream he released the ball along with his anger. The monster had no time to regain its wits as it was heaved deeper into the ground by the omnipotent force of the Saiyan's liberated hatred._

 _Gohan was relentless in his assault. Thrust after thrust, discharging burning bolts of anger infused ki. There was no way anyone could see the monster under the scene of devastation he was causing, but it didn't matter. Freeza was under there, he could feel it. He couldn't stop, he'd stop when one of them was dead._

 _With the aid of his Saiyan hearing, Gohan could pick up the sound of Vegeta's gasps of amazement. Then, behind that, there was a whimpering…_

 _Dende._

 _The world came back to Son Gohan, and everything felt wrong._

 _What had he become for Dende to be so obviously petrified of him?_

 _He was battling_ _ **their**_ _monster after all._

 _It was at that moment that Son Gohan decided that fighting was not what he was to do with his life._

 _Never again would he lose himself to the anger in his heart._

Only, Gohan was angry, he realised it now, but it wasn't the anger of battle, it was less primitive than that.

 _If you want to blame anyone, blame Cell, make him pay for what he's done._

Finally, acceptance.

Son Gohan had defeated Cell. Cell was the reason his life had been turned upside down.

If Cell hadn't come along all those years ago and burrowed into the ground like the coward he was, Gohan would have everything back to normal.

He could enjoy studying again, his dad would be alive, and Chichi would have someone to look after her properly, not in the overly protective way he had been offering.

It was ironic really, Gohan had spent all of his life dealing with the over-protectiveness of his mother.

With as sadistic a smirk as any that ever graced Son Gohan's lips, he gave himself a moments break from studying to reflect on all the horrible things he had done to Cell that day.

What he'd give to do them all again.


	3. Chapter 3

Science dictated that there were four major forces at play in the universe. Strong nuclear, weak nuclear, electromagnetic and gravitational- the first being the strongest, the last – the weakest.

Upon completing a round trip of the universe, one would find that this was a widely accepted belief among almost all mortal races with any kind of objective intelligence.

Of course, to complete a journey through the entirety of the universe, one would have to be travelling at incomprehensible speeds, or have a lifespan greater than that of existence, both of which conditions are predictably, impossible.

Only after ascending to the higher realm would one start to discover that four forces were not enough to keep the loosely woven threads of the cosmos knitted together.

One often-unspoken-about power went largely unnoticed throughout the countless worlds of creation, buried beneath the safety of stories and ignorance, mortals had a tendency to shun anything they didn't understand, and needless-to-say, there were few mortals alive who fully understood the concept of magic.

Many civilisations were aware of it, but even the mortals understood that acknowledgment of something didn't always lead to understanding.

Magic had many names scattered between the stars, but few people truly understood it, fewer still had the audacity to wield such a power.

The ones who did however were almost always revered as gods or condemned as heathens, there just wasn't really a middle ground, except on one planet…

Only the god's truly held complete enlightenment, and so it was they who acknowledged how powerful magic was.

Innumerable works of study could be dedicated to explaining how such a thing worked, where it could be found, and how anyone could harness it, but to put it simply, magic was the force used to pave over the cracks in creation.

When the universe was first sculpted, the unnamed creator had set the four forces into motion, and for the first million years, everything seemed to be going smoothly, that was until the unnamed creator discovered cracks.

The very fabric of space-time had been inexplicably torn in several places, and none of the four forces seemed strong enough to be able to remedy the problem.

The unnamed creator had no choice but to use external force and import some of his own realm's power to seal the breaches.

That power never truly left the universe, much to the annoyance of the unnamed creator, who decided it was best to mould a new race of beings in its image, and bestow them with the power of magic, as to make sure that should a similar situation ever arise, the children of creation wielded the necessary tools to combat it.

Which is why magic became a loose term for anything that could not be explained by physics. And in truth, such a definition was not far off the mark.

Magic was the only thing left in the universe that didn't originate from this realm, which is why it transcends creation, and all four forces of it.

In fact, magic was so powerful that it could actually go above and beyond the four dimensions as well. For anyone who truly wielded magic with any potency could indeed use it to break down the walls of physics, whether that be teleportation or time travel, or in lesser cases, fortune telling…

* * *

Cell found himself slinking against the back-wall of the cave he had found refuge in for the past few months. "Laundry?!"

The petite cloaked figure said nothing, but the subtle tipping of a hat signified confirmation. "Laundry." A haggard voice hissed, not for the first time.

"Look, I don't know who you are, but if you think I'm sneaking back onto earth, hidden in your…" Cell visibly shuddered. "unmentionables, then you've got another thing coming."

The creature tutted, much to the annoyance of its companion. "Pride is a troublesome thing you know; you'll find it only gets in the way."

Who did this idiot think they were? "Pride is one thing, and self-respect is another thank you very much" Cell said with a folding of his arms.

The wind shifted inside the cave and melted away any bravery the android had conjured since his stay in his new dwelling. To think, Cell, the perfect android could feel fear – Gohan had sought to that.

This was different however, Cell had been here a year, and although he considered the idea of Hell to be ridiculous, he still found himself on edge at almost all times. That was the miracle of the place, nowhere else could one be so impossibly bored and yet so anxious. It was thoughts like that that made Cell contemplate whether king Yemma had secretly designed the android his own personal nightmare to live in for the rest of time.

For the second time that day, Cell shuddered.

The creature didn't move a muscle, it still levitated there, a few feet off the ground, as patient and as silent as the dead. Only the dead weren't patient, as Cell now knew.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.

"You really think it could work?"

Somewhere behind that ebony cloak, that possessed such an unnatural darkness that even the creatures shadow was a lighter shade of black, dozens of crooked, scraggy teeth came together unevenly to form a jagged smile.

* * *

"You stink!"

It was funny how babies could understand when you were insulting them, despite not being able to talk.

For the fourth time that day, poor little Goten was crying his eyes out.

Gohan lifted the fragile little thing up above his head and pulled out some of the silliest faces of his repertoire in a desperate attempt to cease it's wailing.

Gohan was rewarded with a face-full of urine.

At least Goten had stopped crying.

The chubby little tyke was laughing about as loud as his newly formed lungs would let him. As Chichi knew, Saiyan children had the capacity to be very, very loud.

Gohan only had himself to blame really, how could he be so stupid as to assume that his little brother couldn't understand his accusation?

Goten really did smell though, and their mother was asleep, which meant…

And Gohan had just taken a bath.

He sat the tiny little thing on its back upon the kitchen table and rolled up his sleeves, He was gonna have to do this someday…

* * *

Goku loosened his grip on King Kai's shoulders, there were some things he'd rather not see…

"That boy of yours is really growing up."

The newly crowned champion of otherworld stared at his friend in that weird half serious-half joking way only Goku could manage and said "If that's what everyone means by growing up then you can count me out."

* * *

On the whole, Cell would have agreed that being an android had many more pros than cons, and not needing to sleep was one of them.

Well it would have been, if he actually enjoyed being awake.

He supposed that the dead probably didn't need to sleep anyway, in a way they were already _fast_ asleep, permanently.

The cave had been good to him since the creature had left. The damned, hovering old wench had left him with more questions than answers, it seemed all it wanted was consent for its ill-formed plan at this point.

Cell wasn't sure when he would be returning to Earth but he would weather a guess that it would be sooner rather than later.

Although how often would one need to wash something that black anyway?

Death had brought many things to Dr Gero's most deadly creation, but surprisingly, above all else, it had brought an all-conquering sense of strangeness.

 _I mean, how did this happen? How is it that I, Cell, am waiting in fear for some beaten old hag to tell me when it's okay to sneak into her laundry_?

Hell fell silent outside the walls of the cave, leaving the android alone to his thoughts.

Normally one would be able to detect the tortured cries of some twisted soul, or the incensed bellows of anger and barbarism from one of the countless fights that seemed to spawn all over the wrong half of the afterlife.

But now, it was silent.

Cell craved familiarity in such a desolate place, Hell was loud, and he had grown to like it that way.

The life of an emperor was fraught with distrust. Freeza had spent a lot of his time contemplating the possibility that someone, from some backwater planet would rise up and dare to overthrow him. Such a thought alone had cost the Saiyans their place in the universe.

Furthermore, the tyrant had spent almost all of his life trapped within the confines of some inter-planetary ship and Space could be an incredibly silent place.

It was no wonder that towards the later end of Freeza's tenure as the most powerful mortal in the universe, his mind was sinking further and further into the bottomless depths on insanity.

This was perhaps why Cell was so intrinsically frightened of silence.

In more ways than one, he hated Freeza, and death had only exaggerated this.

* * *

Chichi watched with a heavy heart as her beautiful oldest son tossed and turned in his sleep. Being the daughter of the Ox-King, the princess of the fire mountain region had accomplished a lot in her life so far. Finding a husband with a heart so pure that it allowed him to ride the fabled nimbus-cloud. Or settling down in a picturesque house that was so rustic and pleasing to the eye that it seemed as though it only belonged in a fairy-tale. But Gohan and Goten would always be Chichi's greatest accomplishments.

Her two boys were her world. Yes, Chichi was hard on Gohan sometimes, but she loved him so much and she was just so damned afraid of losing him to anything in particular.

It broke her fragile heart to see Gohan like this in his sleep. Chichi knew what he was dreaming about, it had to be Goku.

Goku.

What she'd give to see that big idiot again.

Gohan was so much more like his father than he realised, and she knew that. The eldest son of Chichi was impossibly intelligent for his age, but he was still such a numbskull beneath all that.

Gohan seemed to settle, a thick pool of drool taking shape in the corner of his lips.

Finally, after a laborious turn onto his side, Gohan sighed and gave a feint grumble. It always amazed Chichi how peaceful her son could look in his sleep.

She had a habit of watching Gohan after he had gone to bed, not to catch any mischievous behaviour - although that had happened more than once – but only to quietly observe him. She supposed that it was a little over-protective, but it didn't matter, Gohan was gentle, he _needed_ guiding.

A tiny smile of contentment pulled at her lips and she finally stalked off, to check on her other precious little creation, and then eventually to sink into her own night of sleep.

Gohan probably wouldn't be the only one dreaming about Goku tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

Gohan had always been a morning person. Ever since he could remember, he just loved the way the world looked when it was bathed in the morning sun.

Everyone had told him that it wouldn't last, that as he grew into a teenager, it would become impossible to fully appreciate the earliest parts of the day. Teenagers needed their sleep more than anyone apparently.

Gohan wasn't really sure what to make of it if he was honest. The idea of someone's view on the world changing that drastically in the space of a few years, seemed damn right ridiculous.

It probably came from being an outdoors person as well, he supposed. Nature held a serene beauty in the morning, particularly in the rustic setting of Mount Paozu. The way the cool morning breeze played with the swaying trees, careful as to not wake any of the forest's sleeping residents. He especially enjoyed the tranquil rays of golden light that spilled in through any hole in the canopies it could find. The woods to the east of his dear old house was his favourite spot in the morning, not just for its natural beauty, but for the memories that came with it.

Maybe Gohan's fascination and affection for morning was a little deeper then appearance.

Before Radditz had emerged, and set the spiralling chain of events that had turned Gohan's brief life into the adventures of the world's youngest superhero, Goku used to take his only son into the woods every morning, before and after breakfast to spend time together.

Back when the world wasn't all angry tyrants or revenge-driven scientists and there wasn't so much running.

 _So much running._

Gohan cherished those memories and locked them away in the deepest and most un-corroded part of his mind.

Nothing could ever touch them in there, they were as close to perfection as life could be.

The breeze picked at his shaggy hair as he soared through the early morning sky in the direction of East City.

Chichi had been in a particularly laboured state the night before and he felt as though he was being selfish the past few months, being locked away in his room the way he was.

Gohan had decided to surprise her with a gift. Their family were never blessed with much in the way of riches, but Gohan had received a decent amount of zeni for his eleventh birthday, and he was about as useless with money as his father was, so he had decided to put it to good use instead of letting it waste away at the bottom of some drawer, and get his mother a nice new gift to show her that he loved her and that he was so, stupidly proud of her, every single day.

As for what Gohan would get his mother, that was a whole other matter…

* * *

In all of King kai's years on the job, he had never met anyone quite like Son Goku. Being a kai meant observing one's fair share of the universe, that was after all, what being a kai was all about. They were there to observe, whilst maintaining the preservation of balance in all things.

Son Goku was about as unbalanced as they came. Their probably wasn't enough evil in creation to corrupt the earth-raised Saiyan's heart.

King Kai most likely wouldn't ever admit it, but he didn't keep his best friend around just for his company. Son Goku was a reminder, a reminder that in a universe that was so saturated with darkness, light could always find a way to prosper.

That and the fact Goku was about the only person thick-headed enough to occasionally find the old kook's jokes funny.

The old martial arts master sighed.

"Goku, don't you think that's enough training for one day? I'm not sure the Grand kai's planet can take much more of your abuse."

Goku's big dark eyes searched for the meaning in his friend's words, and for a second, King Kai was sure his former apprentice looked genuinely offended.

"My abuse?"

"What I mean is, if you keep training like this as a super Saiyan, you can add this planet to the list of ones you've _already_ destroyed!"

Goku cupped his chin between his index finger and thumb in thought, his eyes fell upon the other-worldly pink sky and King Kai could literally see the rusted cogs of his mind turning in tandem until they produced an explanation. "A list?"

The tubby blue god could feel his face begin to heat up in anger, King Kai always tried to hold his position with the appropriate dignity it deserved, but Son Goku really knew how to push his buttons sometimes.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

Goku's usual, sappy grin took shape as his ever-the-optimist brain deemed what was being said as a compliment.

King Kai's teeth slammed together so hard he was sure one of them snapped. "I didn't mean it in a good way!"

Goku flexed his hands up defensively and subconsciously backed away. "Gee King kai, I don't know why you're so upset today."

The old god didn't have a chance to reply, despite how much he wanted to as he was knocked off his feet by a burst of ki-driven pressure. Goku grimaced as he attempted to tap into that well of energy that fuelled every inch of his power.

He felt his heart-rate rise exponentially and his already-bulging muscles rumbled and quaked as they grew to even more impossible sizes. The furious golden aura that had become something of a myth throughout the universe intensified all around Goku's form until it was so bright that the Saiyan looked as though he were a living supernova.

Before he had even thrown a punch, Goku sighed and exhaled, his golden hair returning to it's untamed, charcoal spikes, and his eyes lost their brilliant aqua tint. "Something's still missing."

King Kai was too busy trying to gauge the scope of his friend's power to maintain his grudge, his thick-skinned hands patted his archaic uniform as he got to his many feet steadily.

It never ceased to amaze the god just how powerful mortals could be, to think, King Kai once thought himself to be one of the strongest in all the cosmos, Goku could swat him like a fly if he ever wanted to. He shook his head; things weren't always like this.

* * *

"Six days?!"

The old hag nodded once. Cell regarded what he once thought a creature as a haggard old crone now. Since yesterday, he had spent most of his time out in the open expanse of hell, free from the isolation of his cave, and now that the inexplicable light of hell illuminated his new _friend,_ he could tell _she_ was a female.

More to the point, six days wasn't enough to accomplish anything, Cell thought. How was he to best Son Gohan if he didn't even have a week to prepare?

"Can't I sneak in the time after you next do your stupid laundry?"

She smiled at that, a withered, toothy smile, filled with spite. "If you can wait another hundred years?"

Cell realised it was a stupid idea to begin with trying to barter with some ancient old kook. And the fact of the matter was that he didn't really have anything to bargain with, by all accounts, it was _her_ that was doing _him_ a favour, so the android didn't really have a leg to stand on.

"Just why _are_ you offering to help me woman? What do you gain out of this?"

That toothy smile had never left. "I'm doing it out of the kindness of my heart."

Cell was sceptical to say the least, she didn't even look as though she possessed a heart, and if she did, he was sure that it would be the same shade of black as the swaying cloak that hung to her back.

For a second, his maniacal eyes flashed dangerously, until he thought better of it and sighed, earning an even more vile grin from the woman.

"Do you accept?"

"hn"

"Good. I'll meet you here in six days to pick you up, please make sure that you're ready."

She began to glide away before turning sharply and waving a hand in jest. "Oh, and try not to sleep in."

Cell's mechanical brain was busy processing a retort when he realised the old bag was long gone.

 _Six days?_ He thought.

That really wasn't much time.

Cell grinned sadistically. _Maybe I'll go find Freeza._

* * *

East City, or _The Big One_ as Gohan had come to know it, was its usual vibrant, manic self. Swarms of hypnotised shoppers lined the many streets of the market district, completely oblivious to the fact that the saviour of the world hung delicately above them, taking in the merciless noon sunshine.

Gohan eyed an alley briefly before deeming it a safe place to land. Although given how hot people's minds were with the memory of cell, he doubted that something as trivial as flying would even phase the hardened citizens of East City, they were some of the _first_ victims of the insidious android after all.

The thought made Gohan angry, that people should be exposed to such an experience that they had to re-evaluate everything they thought they knew about life.

How could anyone be that selfish? To do that to an entire race of people…

Gohan's ki swelled and he had to strain to keep it in order.

Sweat-ridden hands clenched and unclenched in an agitated rhythm as he made his way into the main shopping centre.

It was terrible really, that Gohan could still get so angry _so_ easily. The last year hadn't exactly been plain sailing, and most of Gohan's suffering had come from self-loathing, it had taken roughly eleven months and seventeen days (He didn't want to make a big deal about it) to finally come to the conclusion that there was only one person he should be angry at, and it was Cell.

Still though, there was no outlet, as long as he thought of Cell he would find himself becoming furious, and the trouble with a world-shattering event was, it tended to be brought up a lot.

Even in the seclusion of Mount Paozu, news of the great Mr Satan had filtered through in about every possible form of media that existed. Rumours were even circulating about a potential movie dedicated to "The hero who defeated Cell." Gohan had chuckled when he first found out, he wished he could have said the same about his mother.

He dreaded to think what would happen if Chichi and Mr Satan were locked in a room together.

The automated doors that lead into the gleaming white interior of the East City shopping mall were fast approaching, and Gohan realised he would just have to learn to control his anger.

Gohan finally relaxed as he felt the cool gust of wind that accompanied the swishing of the doors shutting.

East City Mall was enormous, and that was an understatement. There were more levels than Gohan could count from just standing at the foot of the escalator and he was by anyone's book, a mathematical genius. Not to mention the fact that every single stairway, shop and fast food outlet was filled to the brim with as many people as could possibly fit, which was particularly intimidating for someone who detested infiltration of his personal space.

Buying gifts was something Gohan was not at all familiar with, especially for women. On the whole actually, women were something he was generally quite bemused about.

He kind of knew in a way that even if his dad were still around, he'd be about as stumped as Gohan was.

To his right, a seemingly newish, tacky clothes shop caught his eye, it's windows were lined with expensive-looking women's underwear and each item looked worse than the last.

Bras coated in some horrible silver beaded design, petite dresses with such lack of length that Gohan doubted as to whether there was any point wearing anything at all.

He considered it for a moment and realised his knowledge of fashion was about as extensive as his knowledge of women, not to mention he had no idea what sizes his mother was.

Once more, Gohan considered the idea of going in that shop and buying an expensive item of clothing for his mother one of the most terrifying situations in the world.

He'd rather face ten Freezas than go in there and do that.

With an exasperated huff, and a solemn shake of the head, the search continued.

It wasn't that Gohan lacked an imagination, it's just he genuinely didn't even know where to begin really. Chichi was far from vocal when it came to anything other than mothering. Her "two babies" as she still called them, were all that really mattered in her world, and Gohan was hard-pressed to think of a single material item his mother had ever actually verbally announced a desire for.

He found his mind wandering as he subconsciously weaved through the droves of busy shoppers. One girl giggled like an idiot as Gohan's mouth frantically searched for an apology after bumping into her. His cheeks lit up a ruby red as the slender blonde winked and smiled before turning away.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Gohan picked up the tell-tale sound of people running as a thundering boom exploded from somewhere across the mall.

While everyone else scrambled to get to safety from the incident, Gohan darted in between the herds of panicked citizens and closed the distance between him and the sound.

By the time he reached a rather dainty looking jewellery shop which big, golden letters announcing the name "The Golden Lodge" in some fancy font, the shopping centre seemed all but empty, save for a few people who looked to be trapped inside.

Gohan kept low as he approached the door with the silence of the grave and crouched with his back to the wall. His brain had entered the unwelcomed state of warrior mode now, for the first time since the cell games, but he pushed that to the back of his mind and took in a deep breath. There was one man with some kind of sub-machine gun that he was erratically waving around in the direction of two elderly women behind a counter. A few others were dotted around the shop with their hands behind their heads.

No one moved save the young man with the gun, his sky-blue denim jeans were ripped at the knees and his tar leather jacket had some graphic depiction of a flaming skull on the back, his unruly red hair was kept in check by a chequered bandanna and an obnoxiously over-the-top, golden stud pierced his left ear.

Gohan made a move to slide open the door but thought better of it, even with the balance and grace of a martial arts expert, there was no way he could sneak in without first unintentionally announcing his presence, and although he had no doubt that the perp could be subdued before any further acts of violence were committed, he wanted this to be as clean as possible. Besides, the two women behind the counter looked as though their hearts could give at any second.

Fortunately, at some point in the commotion, the robber must have fired a warning shot as the main window of the shop was completely shattered and left a huge opening for Gohan to exploit. Even better was the fact that the window was completely behind the counter and thus was in the opposite direction of where the robber was looking.

Gohan swallowed and made a break for the window.

Clearly going just shy of a year without fighting had withered his instincts as his right foot slipped on a shard of broken glass and the saviour of Earth had to hold himself from crashing into a shelf full of diamond-encrusted rings, which he was sure collectively cost more than his entire house.

It wasn't just the robber that noticed him, everyone in the shop seemed to chance a glance at their would-be-saviour as he righted himself with outstretched arms.

For the briefest of moments, Gohan and the man locked eyes, and after a millisecond of contemplation, the barrel of the sub-machine gun was pointed in Gohan's direction.

Time seemed to stand still as the gun fired more rounds than Gohan could count and had a single one of them reached his body, he may of actually felt them.

The murderous grin of the robber faltered as he watched dozens upon dozens of crushed pieces of lead fall harmlessly to the floor, then, the boy with shaggy black hair and a blank expression on his face took four purposeful strides towards him and he felt like his heart might jump up and out his throat.

The robbers voice stuttered and struggled as he squeezed in what vocabulary he could amidst the crippling fear plaguing his entire body. Gohan was standing at a distance now where had he been taller, the two would be face-to-face.

"P-P-Please h-h-h-have mercy…kid" He managed.

Gohan's expression didn't change, he still stared at him with those blank eyes that had become so tragically used to this kind of situation down the years.

"You could have really hurt someone with this." His voice was as passive as his gaze and he snatched the gun from the robbers trembling hold and shook it in his face for good measure.

The mortified man was on his knees now as he cupped his hands together in desperation "I'm sorry, I'm beggin' ya, please don't hurt me."

Something seemed to click in Gohan's head as he seemingly returned to normal, a hand casually finding its way to the back of a head. "I'm not gonna hurt you, but I'm afraid you _will_ be going to jail" He said with his silly Son-grin

Just as Gohan had transformed, so had the robber, his "wise guy" demeanour flowing back through him with a vengeance. "I'd rather take my chances in jail than have to deal with a freak like you." He muttered under his breath.

Gohan heard and shot the man a heated glare, and like magic the once-tough guy was back on his knees pleading for forgiveness.

Time seemed to have restarted for the rest of the mortified onlookers in the shop, and Gohan had almost forgotten about them.

The two ladies behind the counter finally emerged from their state of shock and the fuller of the two strutted over to the subdued robber and began berating him. Gohan managed to mask a chuckle as the scene unfolded, it looked like something out of a sitcom he had seen on television.

The more petite-framed of the two women made her way over to the snickering Gohan, he met her stare with his trademark smile and the fair-haired girl returned the gesture.

"That was extremely brave of you young man."

Gohan's toe scraped the floor as his cheeks warmed into a blush. "oh, thanks, I guess, I mean, it was nothing really."

Another hand landed on his matted black locks and it didn't belong to him this time. "Last time I checked, single-handedly stopping a robbery wasn't nothing, particularly for a boy so young."

She pinched his cheek playfully, deepening his uncontrollable blush. "And particularly for such a little cutie."

Gohan could feel his hardened warrior exterior melting like hot butter. He spared a thought for how angry Piccolo would have been to see him like this.

The other woman was still busy bellowing at the shaken robber, who seemed to be shrinking further and further into the ground.

Gohan was pleased to see that one of the other shoppers had the fore-sight to call the police the moment Gohan had swiped the gun.

"So what was a little boy like you doing in East City shopping centre all by yourself? Having said that, I'm not sure someone like you would have any reason to be scared of…anything honestly."

For a boy who had studied literature at university level, Gohan wasn't the most eloquent when it came to talking to people he didn't know. "erm, I was sorta… buying a gift for my mother."

The woman continued to smile warmly. "Any luck?"

Gohan shook his head pitifully and realised he looked far sadder than he should, given his recent heroics.

"Well, why don't you get your mother a nice new necklace?"

"Oh, I mean…" His eyes met the floor as that all-too-familiar embarrassment came rushing back.

The woman only looked at him expectantly.

"Well, I don't really have much…money."

All of Gohan's fears were confirmed when the old blonde began to laugh.

"Young man, not only did you just save us from losing more-or-less our entire collection of watches, you may very well of just saved all our lives." She started to stroll over to a pristine rack of necklaces in the corner and gestured for the young man to follow.

"I'm sure we can spare you and your dear old Mother something of your choosing from here." She ran a bracelet-clad arm down the side of the display suggestively.

Suddenly, the weight of the world found its way to Gohan's shoulders as he realised that he would now have to choose, and following the events of the past few moments, he had gained quite an audience, made up of shell-shocked shoppers.

He scanned the entire rack and realised he had absolutely no idea which one his mother would like.

The woman's hand fell upon one of the many he had considered and yanked it from the indent it was held in, revealing its sheik, golden texture, and a deep aquamarine pendant hanging frigidly from the bottom.

The woman smiled and held it out to Gohan. "How about this? Would you mother find this to her liking?"

Gohan would give anything for this horribly awkward situation to end, so he gave in to his selfishness and nodded like an idiot. "Thank you so much." He beamed with as much forced gratitude as he could manage.

The woman immediately fetched a tiny black box and laid the necklace down inside it gently. Gohan picked it up and put it in his pocket, and the woman bent down to fetch a bag from under the counter.

"You're very welcome, and by the way, so everyone knows who East City's youngest hero is, what's your name?" The woman's eyes flashed in horror to find that her little saviour hand vanished without a trace.

Gohan had snuck out of the mall with the grace of a ballerina, cursing himself for letting himself be forced into making a choice so easily.

He reached in his pocket and held the box out in front of his face.

 _I hope you like it Mom, Cause I sure don't._


	5. Chapter 5

Day 1

"Goku, I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

Bubbles chose the opportune moment to announce his presence with his usual frantic jumping and hooting.

"See! Bubbles thinks it's a good idea." Goku folded his arms and smiled proudly at the little primate, before turning to King Kai expectantly.

The old god was having none of it. He had never heard anything so preposterous in all his remarkably long existence. "Well, Bubbles isn't the one who's putting his life on the line, is he?!"

Goku and King Kai's most trusted companion shared a look and came to a unanimous shrug of the shoulders. "But King Kai, You're already dead?"

The charismatic old teacher seemed to take it on the chin. "Don't remind me."

"So you'll do it?"

Goku sounded so much like a child sometimes, but unfortunately for him, King Kai wasn't someone who had been subjected to the customs of Earth, and he could more than withstand the pleading of an _actual_ child, much less Goku.

"Even if I did agree to do it; how do you think I could make you so angry that you'll ascend like Gohan?"

It was a fair point. Goku hadn't ever really considered that. In truth, not a lot made the former student of Master Roshi angry. Gohan had most certainly been handed down the infamous temper he possessed from Chichi, but Goku himself found it difficult to understand how his closest family members managed to get themselves so worked up.

His wife, Chichi was renowned for her "Less than tolerable" attitude towards anyone she didn't really know. Gohan's anger was different, it was far subtler and much harder to provoke.

In fact, it had taken a day of utter torture to finally squeeze every ounce of the boy's fury out of him, and with it, his unfathomable, hidden power.

Not many people knew, but Gohan actually showed glimpses of his mother's anger every now and then if he was in a bad mood, which to be fair, wasn't very often.

Goku remembered when he had gotten on the bad side of both his wife _and_ his son one particular evening.

Chichi and Gohan had spent more-or-less the entire day scrubbing, wiping and generally cleaning the Son house to the point of near spotless perfection.

The daughter of the Ox King always made a point of dedicating a day of winter to such tasks.

Goku had been out fishing all day, with the occasional round of shadow sparring littered in between catches.

Needless to say, when the Earth-raised-Saiyan had returned home during the first few hours of twilight, he wasn't looking as _pristine_ as the house he was returning to.

A trail of muddy-boot impressions corrupted the freshly scrubbed floor and followed Goku all the way into the kitchen, where he found his son and wife waiting patiently for his return.

Chichi was idly stirring some delicious smelling concoction in her favourite frilly-decorated pan, and Gohan was sitting quietly at the dining room table reading a science book.

"Oh, Hi Goku, you're ba—"

Everything seemed to click into place as Goku realised his son and wife were staring at something wide-eyed behind him, their eyes were alight with complete despair, and for a second, Chichi looked as though she would break down into tears.

But despair transformed into fury, and Goku had discovered what was wrong, but it was much too late.

Gohan rose from his seat and mother and son took several purposeful strides in unison towards the object of their anger.

Goku felt his throat screeching, as forced, nervous laughter escaped his mouth.

What made things worse, was that with every backward stride the Saiyan took, more mud was spluttered unceremoniously onto the fruit of his son and wife's labours.

Within a few seconds, Goku had tripped on kami-knows-what and Gohan and Chichi stood, looming over him, hands on hips and a scowl to match their attitude.

Without a second glance, Gohan grabbed a dust-pan and brush, and thrusted it violently in the direction of his dear old father.

"But Chichi, you know I hate cleaning!" Goku realised he must have looked rather pathetic on the floor, being the man of the house 'n' all.

Chichi and Gohan finally broke their heated stare and looked at each other for a second, before a sickening grin pulled at their mouths. "Oh hush Goku, you're lucky Gohan and I don't make you _lick_ that mud up off the floor you just tracked in!"

Goku didn't remember the rest of that night, out of choice.

The dead Saiyan didn't really have an answer for the question he was being posed.

"I don't know King Kai, you're the god after all!"

The martial arts master sighed the kind of sigh reserved for a disappointed a parent.

"I'll think about it."

* * *

For the first time in a real while, Gohan was in a good mood.

Unexpectedly, Chichi had adored the present her son had gone through his own personal hell to get. In fact, Gohan had to contain his own pride when his mother had actually gotten quite emotional upon receiving her fancy new necklace.

When he got back, he was scared, and that was an understatement. It wasn't often that Gohan had the audacity to sneak out of their house without his mother's consent, not anymore anyway. So when the new man of the Son house had returned, petite black box in hand, he was more than a little apprehensive about the reception that would be received.

Son Gohan was right to be afraid.

In some strange way, it was almost _refreshing_ to see Chichi so upset again, she had been so lifeless after the Cell games, and even after the arrival of Goten, Gohan had scarcely seen his Mother raise her voice. It was good to know things were finally getting back to normal. Or as normal as things could get out in Mount Paozu.

Of course, Chichi had stopped her shouting without Gohan even opening his mouth, he only held his arm out silently, and let his mother take the box from his hand, before embracing her in as warm a hug as he had ever given her.

"Oh Gohan, it's beautiful." Her muffled voice had said, complete surprise forced her hands to cover her face.

Even the son of Goku found it difficult not to cry when he saw his mother's own tears spill out from her eyes and trickle down her pale cheeks.

The two stood there for a while, before Gohan had told Chichi how much he loved her.

The pre-teen quietly slipped off up to his room to study some college level mathematics, before taking an afternoon nap.

As he did every morning when he awoke, Gohan instinctively extended his senses and took in the warm glow of his mother's and new-born brother's ki.

It was only natural, he realised. Gohan was the man of the house now, and that brought with it phenomenal expectations, as well as requiring great vigilance.

There was no doubt he had the power to stop anyone from physically hurting his family, Gohan was the strongest person on the planet, even if he hated the idea of that.

And should anyone try and harm his mother or his brother in any other way, it was up to him to sort everything out.

Gohan hated violence, but after everything with Cell, he just couldn't bear to lose anyone else, and if that meant _intimidating_ someone, then so be it.

When he arrived downstairs, he found his mother and Goten waiting for him in the dining room. Chichi would no doubt be making something extra special for breakfast given her son's recent act of generosity.

The little half-Saiyan smirked before taking a seat.

"Morning Mother."

Chichi practically swooned over to him and gave him a big sloppy kiss on the forehead, much to the bewilderment of a very irate looking Goten. Who as Gohan noted, was covered in the majority of his breakfast.

"What's the matter brother? Jealous?"

The chubby little thing pouted, and lifted his arms in the air, awaiting his mother's grasp. Chichi picked her baby up and cradled him over her shoulder.

"Now Gohan, you shouldn't bully your little brother like that." Chichi added playfully whilst she began chopping up a rather large looking carrot, fresh from their patch outside.

Gohan stuck his tongue out at his little brother, earning a big chuckle and a puzzled looking Chichi.

"He can take it, he's gonna be big and strong like uncle Piccolo one day."

"I suppose he does look just like your father."

Mother and son shared a laugh at the look of puzzlement on little Goten's face.

Gohan sat back in his chair with a grin as wide as West City. For the first time since Goku had journeyed to Otherworld, the father of the Son house was brought up with absolutely no connotations of sadness, or anger, or disappointment, or loneliness. Gohan was truly beginning to appreciate life again, and all the crazy things that came with it.

* * *

Fate was once an outlook on the universe that Cell obsessed over. Dr Gero was very deliberate in his choice of words when it came to his ultimate creation. _Words_ such as "Perfect" and "Destiny" might as well have been branded on the android's forehead in those first few months of consciousness.

Like any child that was fed the notion of self-entitlement or a promise of gratification, Cell subscribed to the idea of some higher force deeming his own importance vastly superior to anyone else's, which lead to his subscription to the idea of fate.

That was of course, until he met Son Gohan.

There could truly be no fate, if even after reaching perfection, it still wasn't enough to fulfil one's destiny.

Dr Gero had lied to him. There was no masterplan, no perfectly calculated scheme that lead to paradise. The universe wasn't centered around Cell, and the power he had achieved.

In all honesty, the universe, just didn't really care. Even the Earth kept spinning for every second Cell had been alive after he had absorbed Android 18.

And now, after he had perished, at the hands of a child, the universe had found a way to care even less.

He'd even heard that the people that he had killed on Earth, had even been brought back to life. It was as if his life's work, had been undone.

Perhaps there was such a thing as fate, the more he reasoned, the more he realised.

Destiny did exist, and it existed to put him down. Not before building him up with all the hope and expectation it could muster.

The universe was working against him.

That was how he liked to see it now.

The true testament to Cell's power, existence itself conspiring against Dr Gero's greatest ever creation.

And now he had a second chance. And there was nothing destiny could do about it.

But perhaps Son Gohan would have a thing or two to say.

Cell hated the universe, and everyone in it.

* * *

as the son of Goku, and the student to the demon Piccolo, Gohan was far from being squeamish.

But even now, as he sat with his back, rigid against his oak chair, the afternoon sun pouring in through the window and caressing his pale skin, the saviour of the Earth still couldn't get the image of that robber from the day before, begging for mercy at his feet, out of his head.

Supposedly, the Saiyans were a race driven by conquest and the desire for power. Vegeta was living proof of this of course. Gohan had never had such urges. The idea of power seemed something completely undesirable to him.

Power, in the wrong hands, lead to self-importance, and Gohan absolutely despised to think of his life or well-being as more important than anyone else's.

Which is why his power absolutely terrified him.

Vegeta, and to a lesser extent, Goku and Piccolo had always driven him to be the best warrior he could be. And sometimes, that meant making decisions that had dire consequences. But that was what being a Saiyan was all about, he supposed.

Gohan hated being referred to as a warrior.

And he also hated being called a Saiyan, even if it _was_ Biology.

To be honest, Gohan simply despised the idea of himself not being human. Until the age of four-and-a-half, which was just over a third of his life, Gohan was a human, and nothing else.

There were no Saiyans, no giant, primitive monkeys marauding up and down some backwater desert, and Gohan was a normal little boy.

That robber had really unnerved him.

Just the thought of it. Someone, at his feet, below them even, below the lowest part of his body, begging for mercy, from their almighty destroyer, the decider of their fate. As if he was important enough to take away anyone's life.

There was a knock.

Chichi nudged the door open with her hip, a silver tray in hand.

They shared a smile and Chichi laid a tall glass of murky, yellow lemonade on Gohan's desk, and a tightly packed sandwich.

"Is everything okay Gohan?"

The son of Goku swallowed.

"Mom…am I normal?"

Chichi placed her hands on her hips and stared at her oldest son for a moment.

"Son Gohan, why in the world are you asking me that?"

The world's saviour could only stutter and stumble on his words. He had no intention of telling his Mother about what had happened the day before.

"Has someone said something to you? Cause if they have, Kami-help-me, I'll—"

"No Mom." Gohan laughed nervously.

"It's just, I've been thinking…about my power."

Gohan couldn't bear to look his mother in the eye at the moment, instead, he let his head slide in the direction of the later-afternoon sky, silently taking in the myriad of colours flooding the horizon. A fearsome, burning gold, softened by a feint, dying pink hue.

Mount Paozu really did look magnificent sometimes.

"Gohan, you better not still blame yourself about what happened to your father. I won't hear another word about that young man."

Gohan felt himself smile, even with the sadness crippling his mind.

"It's not that. It's just, what gives us the right to be so powerful? What makes us more important than anyone else? Shouldn't everyone have the ability to protect themselves and their loved ones? Why are we—"

"Oh Gohan…"

Before the saviour of the world could finish his emotional outburst, he was tightly wrapped in his mother's arms.

"Everyone's so proud of you, you know that?" Chichi's words were muffled into her son's shoulder.

Gohan didn't really know what to say. But the world always seemed brighter when he was in his mother's embrace.

"Thanks Mom."

Chichi brushed a tear that was stinging her eye with the back of her hand. "Dinner should be ready in a few hours, I brought you a little snack in the meantime."

Gohan forced a smile and watched his mother leave, the door gently closing behind her.

Although he still felt guilty, Gohan's mind was a little more at-ease.

He took a Saiyan-sized gulp of his lemonade and an even bigger bite of the packed-out sandwich.

Why was he even thinking like this?

Maybe he could get a better answer out of his Mother tomorrow.

Life could be really confusing sometimes, even for a genius.


	6. Chapter 6

Day 2

Chichi, in her own humble opinion, was as tolerant and as understanding of the outside world as any princess could hope to be. It wasn't her fault that the world could be such an evil place, and it certainly wasn't her Gohan's.

So why was it, that her eldest son had to go off, gallivanting about with demon's and thugs and monsters all the time? Why was it that her baby boy – who wasn't even twelve yet – felt so compelled to just fly away and try and save the world? A world which didn't even know he existed, a world which, she was sure, would rip him to pieces if it ever got the chance

True, the past year, it had gotten better, but only because Son Goku, her husband, was dead.

Chichi didn't understand. She never would.

It wasn't as if she hated the world – far from it – Earth had given her everything she ever wanted, a house, a husband, two beautiful children, a wonderful childhood, she really couldn't ask for much more.

Family was supposed to come first, no matter what.

The world didn't deserve her Gohan.

Chichi only wanted to protect him.

Damn Goku.

* * *

Life was rarely simple.

Sometimes Gohan felt as though there was two of him, and he would jump in and out of consciousness between the two. How else could he be in such a bad mood one moment, and then, – without anything of significance happening in between – be in such a good mood the next?

He felt like a cheater.

Weren't moods supposed to be reactionary? That was the whole point. People got angry because something made them that way, not because they woke up on the wrong side of the bed. The human psyche was hard enough to understand without throwing things such as unprovoked nervous breakdowns, or random fits of joy into the mix.

Gohan didn't deserve to feel happy, that was the problem. But he did.

Was this his punishment? A rather undeserved state of ditsy, morning pleasure, there were worse things could happen to a person, he supposed.

Hopefully soon he'd full back asleep and wake up in the sad version of himself.

Could Gohan ever really be truly happy again?

He felt so old. But happy.

Two days had passed since the incident with the robber, and less than a day since he had presented Chichi with that awful necklace he'd been given.

More like stolen, to be honest. He hadn't paid for it, not with money anyway. And it wasn't really up to him to say whether he had earnt it or not. Luckily, the blonde woman who worked at _The Golden Lodge_ had made the executive decision and had allowed him to take it. And so he had.

What was he going to do today?

Study? Maybe a bit of gardening?

Gohan kind of missed having a set routine. Train, dinner, study. All for a goal, all to defeat the androids, and to become a great scholar, and now he had defeated cell – the hollowest of victories – he wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life.

Chichi, his mother, and Goku, his father, had pretty much already decided, one way or another, what they wanted Gohan to be when he grew up. And since being taken by Raditz at age four, Gohan's life had been incredibly hectic.

It wasn't really until now, sitting on the edge of his bed, half naked, that he decided that he himself, didn't have the remotest of clues as to what he wanted to do with the remainder of his life.

Being a scholar seemed great at first – good pay, intelligent friends, helpful for finding a wife – but was that really what Gohan wanted to do? He hadn't even spared a thought about it since he was four.

What on Earth would his mother think if she was inside his head right now?

Now there was a scary thought.

Surely he owed it to her to become the best scholar he could be?

Gohan had tried to be a warrior, and had failed, he knew that much. Even though he never really wanted to be one in the first place. He _only wanted_ to help, to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. But in the end, he had failed, he couldn't even protect his own father. He couldn't even protect his own father from himself.

Why did he feel so damn happy?

That was it. Breakfast was ready.

Chichi was overly-worried about her son today, which was a whole lot of worried. Not many times did the sun rise from the east and set in the west without Chichi worrying about her eldest son somewhere in between.

And so she was up early, earlier than usual, making an overly sized breakfast to match her overly-sized concern. In her experience, food always made things better, particularly when it came to Saiyans. Chichi would spend the rest of her days cooking for her sons, if that's what it would take to give them a good life after all.

Porridge, steamed rice, fried fish, four different types of soup, pork buns, sushi, fresh fruit vegetables, noodles, squid, cereal, and just about anything else that could pass as _breakfast._

Goten was still sleeping, thankfully. She hated to admit it, but nursing a second half-Saiyan child was considerably more taxing than the first had proven to be. Especially when she didn't have a husband to help her out. It wasn't as if Goku _was_ much of a help with Gohan – of course he had named him, however that had pretty much been nothing but good luck – but just having him around made it so much easier.

Gohan was still such a big help as well though, bless him. She almost couldn't contain herself the first time seeing him hold his little brother, it was just too adorable for any sane person to watch without crying.

And now the short hand of the old grandfather clock they had received as a present upon completion of their rustic little house, was fast approaching 8, and Gohan would be up any minute, showered and dressed, and when he was, he'd have the most nutritious, wholesome breakfast a son could ever ask for waiting for him, delicately and purposefully set out in an order Chichi knew Gohan would love.

As if on que, a shambling mass of thick black spikes and baggy pyjama bottoms came fumbling downstairs and into the kitchen.

Suddenly, Chichi felt even more worried, if that was even possible.

"Gohan, where are your normal clothes? Why haven't you showered?"

Gohan yawned as he sat down, then seemingly, with a perplexed look, asked himself the same questions.

It wasn't very often her son broke any of the ground rules established in the Son house, and knowing Gohan, it was even stranger that he wasn't fully awake and rearing to go for the day's events come morning.

Before he could get up and leave, and she knew he wanted too, Chichi had stopped him with an outstretched hand.

"Gohan, what's wrong?"

Lying to his mother would be an out-and-out offense, a crime, and she would always be able to tell if he _was_ lying, so he had never tried.

Gohan needed to sugar-coat it, because somehow he doubted "A lunatic robber who I stopped from robbing a jewellery shop the other day is making me slowly lose my mind." Would go down to well. So he put on his brave face, the one he had mastered over the past year, the smile that crinkled the top of his nose that he knew his mother found adorable.

"I guess I'm just having trouble sleeping is all." A half-truth really. Further questions were obviously imminent, if only he could leave to have a shower before she thought of one…

"Are you feeling okay?!"

The time between a child informing its Mother of sleeping difficulties and the Mother assuming the child was ill, was generally less than a second, in a normal Mother's case anyway.

Chichi was no normal mother. And Gohan realised he had made a fatal mistake. She was on him in a flash, seemingly conjuring a thermometer out of thin air, and shoving it into his mouth before he could even voice any type of protest.

Being a half-Saiyan, Gohan was pretty sure that there weren't too many illnesses alive on planet Earth that could give him much bother. In fact, he couldn't even recall actually ever catching any kind of virus, or infection, or any kind of disease at all for that matter. But that never stopped Chichi from assuming the worst, and always worrying, and checking up on him if he so much as sneezed. Sometimes he wondered if she actually wanted him to be ill, just as an excuse to more intensely mother him. Gohan certainly wouldn't put it past her.

"Thirty-seven." Chichi sighed.

Thankfully, the sound of a wailing baby shattered any chances of further interrogation.

"He must be hungry."

Chichi dropped her concern for her eldest son without so much as a second thought. It was no surprise really, babies required far more attention than… a teenager? A child? Gohan didn't really know what to class himself as, he felt like a man, because that's what everyone told him he had to be.

In all honesty, it made no difference to him. Gohan had done things most humans would never in all their wildest fantasies dream of doing, and for good reason. What kind of sicko would think up the kind of things that had happened to him down the years?

Now there was one person Gohan _really_ wished he could get his hands on. He would have a thing or two to say.

As usual, Chichi – who was long gone - had left the kitchen window open, and an unwelcomed wind found its way to an exposed back, leaving Gohan to ponder his next choice of action. Attempt to demolish his breakfast before his mother had finished feeding Goten, or shower and change and risk everything going cold?

The first was risky, maybe too risky, eating breakfast before showering and getting dressed might as well have been a crime against humanity the way Gohan's mother took it. At the same time, he was in a good mood, strangely, and cold soup was about as appetising as wet mud.

But then, there was a crash, followed by the familiar sound of a baby laughing.

Maybe Gohan _would_ take a shower after all.

* * *

"How many times do I have to say it? I'm sorry! Okay?"

Bubbles pouted with self-satisfaction as he finished wrapping the thickest of linen bandages tightly around King Kai's swollen arm.

The area of the Grand Kai's planet that had become home for four dead _friends_ , was a smouldering crater of burnt out rock and rubble.

There was silence.

"King Kai, are you even listening to me?"

More silence.

A blue head turned away in disgust.

Then, a hand outstretched, but it was batted away instantly.

"Bubbles, is there something wrong with King Kai's ears?"

"I can hear you Goku!"

Suddenly, King Kai was in Goku's face.

"But I was trying to talk to you an—"

"I know; I can hear you remember?!"

"But why weren't you answ—"

"Because, when someone is as angry with someone as I am with you, they don't talk to that person!"

"But _you are_ talking to me, right now?"

Goku had never seen King Kai move so fast, and the universe knew that he had taken more than his fair share of punches in this life and the one before, but none had as much malice behind them as the shiny red fist indentation on Goku's left cheek.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

King Kai was seething, every breath was drawn between gritted teeth as he dramatically gestured to his various wounds and cuts that littered almost every part of his body.

"You nearly killed me!"

Goku resisted the urge to remind his friend that he was already dead.

"I said I was sorry!"

"Do you know what would have happened if you had killed me, in this life?"

Goku scratched his head. "I guess I never really thought about it."

The wrong answer.

He was prepared this time. Goku grabbed the oncoming fist with one hand, and the one that followed with the other.

"I'd have stopped existing altogether!" King Kai managed despite the pain in his arms.

Goku seemed to pause for a moment, loosening his grip on his attacker's hands slightly.

"But I was so close, I could feel it!"

Goku _really was_ close. He had never been so angry. He didn't remember how King Kai had got him so worked up, but he had sure done a good job.

Everything had to be let go, and Goku was so close. It wasn't until King Kai made the mistake of tapping him on the shoulder, that the fight – if you could call it that – broke out.

Goku had spent more-or-less a full year of his life in super Saiyan form, so he was used to the transformation. But he was trying to reach the next level, so naturally, that meant pushing the boundaries of body _and_ mind. Giving in to the primal urges that came with being a Saiyan, submitting to the unfamiliar anger burning in his heart.

If only King Kai hadn't touched him.

"Ow! I think you've made your point!"

Goku was clutching his nose whilst Bubbles seemed to be doing the monkey equivalent of laughing.

King Kai huffed and returned to his place of sulking, on a rock.

When the stinging sensation in his left nostril had finally passed, and he saw his long-time friend sitting petulantly with his arms folded, facing the other way, Goku truly appreciated, maybe for the first time, why his son had been so reluctant to realise his hidden power.

Sure, Goku always _knew_ the reason, and to a lesser extent, understood it, but never had it been so clear just _why_ Gohan thought the way he did.

Losing control was so easy, particularly for a Saiyan, and Gohan was only eleven during the Cell games, Goku couldn't really imagine what he must have been going through.

Looking at King Kai's shattered arm, he suddenly felt more than a little guilty, but not just for his former mentor.

Then, a sudden pride overtook him, not a pride belonging to Saiyan heritage either, but the pride of a father, who loved his son more than anything else in the cosmos.

In that one moment Gohan had transformed, he had truly surpassed Goku, in bravery and power, and it was thanks to his courage, that he could do whatever he wanted with his life.

Or, more than likely, whatever his mother wanted.

* * *

Nothing really mattered. Not for the next four days anyway. Three days, sixteen hours, twenty-two minutes and thirty-two seconds to be more precise. Cell _was_ precise, he was an android after all.

Patience wasn't a virtue that was lost on the once-terror of Earth, in fact, Cell was forced to be _incredibly_ patient during more than one time in his brief existence. But that seemed to count for very little now.

Anticipation, anxiousness, fear, excitement, hatred, he could feel them all, particularly the last one. Since yesterday, Cell's hatred for pretty much everything had swollen ten-fold. Which put his hate most probably at a universe high, possibly even eclipsing Freeza's and his father's.

He hated Hell, the living, the dead, Dr Gero, nature, emotions, rock, grass, caves and especially Son Gohan.

There was that fear again.

Cell hated _himself_ for fearing Son Gohan.

It wasn't the physical pain Gohan had inflicted, and there was sure-as-hell a lot of that, it was the humiliation that Cell had suffered which really tore him apart.

He wasn't even close to being on the same level of power as Gohan back then.

But now he was, he hoped.

And he had to be _patient_ , for three days, sixteen hours, twenty-one minutes and fifty seconds.

Why did that witch have to give him so much time?!

* * *

The last few hours had been _awkwardly turbulent,_ If Gohan had to describe it in two words. Chichi, who had the memory of an elephant – obviously – clearly hadn't forgotten the conversation from the night before, which seemed all most like a point of great historical significance to Gohan now.

The thing was, Gohan really didn't mind being told he was normal, and a good boy, and handsome, in fact, if he was being honest, he actually rather enjoyed being told all those things.

But he failed to find _any_ enjoyment out of being told all of those things, over the course of six hours. Particularly when he was trying to study. And particularly when he'd awoken from a dream – nightmare - that featured himself as a giant, and a familiar looking robber, splattered two-dimensionally across an enormous boot-imprint.

Son Gohan certainly didn't feel normal.

And now he was sure there was a third Gohan. The _strange_ one, that would probably be the most accurate name for it anyway.

So strange Gohan slouched there, his history book sprawled open atop his wooden table, with nothing but a few random scribblings and crude drawings to show for several hours' work. And what was worse, was that Dinner was going to be ready soon. And for the first time in his life, Gohan wasn't looking forward to a cooked meal.

Chichi would be waiting, equipped with an armada of questions and opinions that she would be absolutely itching to unleash upon her eldest son.

Maybe, just maybe, he would skip dinner tonight.

Son Gohan definitely wasn't feeling normal today.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you my friends for the kind reviews! This is my first real attempt at writing anything, and I have to say, I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. I realise at this point in the story that what's been written so far has almost nothing to do with the bio, but rest assured, it will get to that. I know how the story is going to end, and trust me, things are going to get stranger._

 _The trouble is, that I am completely making all of this up as I go, in an attempt to set up the ending._

 _I should also point out that this story is not at all meant to be taken seriously, as the whole thing seems like a big joke._

 _This particular incarnation of Gohan is my favourite (the cell games one, not the one specifically in this fanfiction) and also my favourite character in all of Dragon Ball (which I don't own by the way, obviously) so this is why I chose to write this, I suppose._

 _If anyone actually wants to read a good fanfiction about Gohan, you should check out A contradicting mission – by Chelsee, Monkey Business – by xXsirinXx, Heavy - by Sifl-senpai, Dragonball Awakening – by EmeraldSaiyan, Self control – by Nature Kid, The Gears of War – by Barbosa (very early stages at the moment)_

 _Those are all I could think of off the top of my head, but many many more exist!_

 _Thank you, and enjoy. (If at all possible.)_

* * *

Day 3

There was an unignorable noise coming from outside his window – familiar, but one that hadn't been heard around the Son house for a while. The unmistakeable beating of wings. Steady, hard _whooshing_ sounds, breaking the air in two, rhythmically.

Gohan ripped the duvet off of himself, before checking his greatest enemy – the alarm clock that sat atop his bedside table, which read 05:37, in its hideously bold, crimson numbers.

Rubbing sleep-deprived eyes, He marched to the window and un-drew their silk curtains to confirm what was already believed.

Icarus hovered just outside, a gentle purr escaping the inquisitive little dragon's lips, which was so low, that anyone who hadn't met the creature before, might easily have mistaken it for a growl.

A million questions sprang to Gohan's mind. He hadn't seen his childhood friend for over two years, and today seemed no more significant than any other. However, one certain aspect of the dragon's unexpected arrival had the young half-Saiyan somewhat frazzled. Why on earth had Icarus decided to visit him so damn early in the morning?!

"I know it's been a while, but this better be good boy!" Gohan warned.

The dragon let out an excitable squawk, and motioned for his master to climb on board. The fresh morning air, ripe with the scent of wet grass was beginning to encroach upon the Son house. Gohan could feel his tiredness draining at the prospect of an adventure, as the smell reached his nose.

With a shrug, he took one glance behind him. Goten was sleeping, though the babies ki stirred in unrest – no doubt in the midst of some kind of nightmare. Guilt tugged at Gohan's mind for the briefest of moments. And then there was his mother, who too was sleeping. Sneaking out twice in one week was truly a dangerous idea to ponder.

Icarus's wings flapped harder, his whole body shaking with every swoosh. The dragon seemed to be growing impatient.

"Alright alright, I'm coming! Do you have to be so loud?" Sapphire eyes widened in understanding at the question, and the dragon slowed his movements.

Gohan quickly scooted back inside and threw on the first top he could find, the blue undershirt that made up part of the gi that so iconically belonged to one Son Goku. Though being in a rush, he thought nothing of it.

The temperature outside was cold, colder than normal for the time of the year. A few blades of grass that stood over the garden were even touched with the mildest of frost at their peaks. Gohan clambered onto Icarus, the frigid, yet still air assaulting his bare feet and exposed arms.

With a final squawk, the dragon took off at record speed, immediately choosing to soar high into the sky and out of sight to any angrily-awoken onlookers – a certain raven-haired woman coming to mind.

"So where are we going Icarus? Is there another dragon you want me to meet?"

Talking to animals was a trait Gohan had inherited from his father, he felt a deep connection with nature and was sure that no matter what creature he was attempting to converse with, there was always a level of understanding between him and it. Especially when it came to his favourite dragon.

Icarus responded with a loop-to-loop, and a fit of loud yelping.

Gohan's worries seemed to melt away as they soared further into the morning horizon. Everything that had been so troubling over the past week, hell, even the past year felt like nothing more than a distant memory. Forgotten had been the idea of adventure, there was nothing quite like it, the freedom, and the excitement.

He sensed a few droplets of something in his eye, and it was unclear if they were conjured out of joy or the cold morning air.

The sun was at its early stages of rising, casting out a thin ribbon of shimmering pink to emblazon the otherwise dull early-hours-blue which coloured the sky. A sight unique to the twilight hours of day.

Gohan focused his mind and steadied his balance, standing up tall upon the back of his childhood dragon, the rushing wind fulfilling an inner yearning to be alive. Maybe today would be a good day.

* * *

The dead had a lot of time to kill, naturally. As far as anyone knew, the afterlife was indeed the last existence someone could experience. Which meant that Son Goku was in no rush. After his most recent scrape with King Kai, the Saiyan realised that perhaps patience was as fundamentally important to his ascension as anger, or any of the other emotions that helped trigger it.

Which left Goku in a spot of bother. Besides training and fighting, not much really existed that brought the same kind of thrill and exhilaration. King Kai had told his friend that he should perhaps toy with the idea of taking up a hobby. But Goku didn't really know where to begin with that.

He didn't like to read, or watch television, or play any sports, or build things, it just didn't have the same kind of appeal as pushing one's body to the brink of its limits.

He could still train of course, but why would he, if the point of the training wasn't to reach a new plateau of strength? It just felt wrong. Gohan (the older one) had always told Goku that there was never any reason to be bored, because the world was full of such wonder and beauty, and the people that felt bored, were the ones who didn't truly appreciate the magnificence of life.

Well Goku was never really bored very often – except for the few shows and school related things Chichi had dragged him to – but now, he just didn't really know what to do with himself.

So he lay, head resting on a cushion made of his own two hands, gazing up at the peculiar pink sky of the Grand Kai's planet. Noticing how the grass beneath felt very different to Earth's, softer, and much smoother to touch.

And the light, inexplicable, there was no source, nowhere it could possibly be coming from. The whole world felt so incredibly strange, and Goku hadn't really noticed before. Even King Kai's cosy little world felt more normal than this.

What was normal? He supposed. It wasn't really his place to judge the strangeness of a planet. It was in fact _him_ after all who had destroyed King Kai's home.

He really missed the Earth.

Maybe King kai would allow him to watch his family for a while today, if he asked nicely that is. Although as kind as any god was supposed to be, King Kai still had a bit of a tendency to let power go to his head. Goku had long since surpassed him in strength, and it was likely the god felt uncomfortable with that fact, and so chose to exert any kind of dominance he could whenever the opportunity arose. Or maybe it was that King Kai was still seething at the fact that Goku had both killed him, and nearly wiped him out of existence altogether.

Who could say?

* * *

The sun now hung low, delicately above the horizon. A new day had been set to motion.

Gohan rubbed the leathery scales between Icarus's horns. A spot he knew the dragon loved. Confirmed when a purr of satisfaction could be heard high above the forests just north of East City.

They had been sailing through the air for over an hour now and Gohan savoured every moment of it. Flying was always ten times more enjoyable upon a dragon's back.

He felt alive, the whole world below was a myriad of natural colours. Vibrant greens of the tree canopies, and the grass underneath twinkled with the thinnest layer of melting frost, reflecting the morning light perfectly, even from the height of the clouds.

The looming spectacle of East City dwarfed everything else in comparison. And Gohan was pleased to see Icarus take a sharp right turn before the place where he had stopped that robber a few days before, came any closer.

Suddenly, Gohan felt the tell-tale sensation of declination in his stomach. Icarus allowed his wings to beat slower as they're altitude dropped gradually. Nothing out of the ordinary came into view, and Gohan wondered why the dragon had decided to land.

No more than a few dozen Ki were active within a twenty-mile radius, the usual hustle-and-bustle of East city was yet to be in full flow.

Icarus sped up his descent, seemingly heading for a small clearing in the trees a few hundred yards in front. Gohan marvelled at the control of the dragon, and how much muscle power it must have taken to accommodate himself and Icarus's own weight. Flying without using Ki was a phenomenon in itself.

With a skid, the dragon's larger hind legs touched the ground, before the smaller, clumpier two secured balance. Gohan slipped off and onto the grass. The basic, wilder ki of the forest's animals thrummed all around him. And a thin veil of mist blanketed the surrounding plant-life. To the west, barely visible, a narrow creek weaved along the ground and in-and-out of the trees, snaking its way beyond the sight of even Saiyan-enhanced eyes.

Wearily, Icarus sunk to the ground. Flying so far with an eleven-year-old Saiyan made of more muscle than water must have been unbelievably taxing, even for the might of a dragon. The poor thing's ki was exhausted, and his eyes fluttered between open and shut as his tail curled up on the floor.

Whatever reason there was for coming to this spot in the forest, would have to wait.

"Easy boy." He soothed.

Finally, the dragon fully gave in to fatigue and allowed itself to drift off, nestled cosily on its spot on the grass.

Gohan had never been to this place before, which was strange. Over the course of his life – particularly the three years spent training in preparation for the androids – the majority of the country had been explored – thanks to flying – so a new area of nature was truly something to appreciate.

Perhaps it was the forest's close vicinity to East City which had caused Gohan to neglect such a place. He always found that the affect humanity had on nature ran far deeper than the confines of a city.

Creature's that lived so close to human settlements tended to have completely different characteristics to their more primal relatives. The whole thing seemed artificial to Gohan. It was their ki, he realised. Something about it felt off.

Even now, he could sense it. it was far easier to compare when Icarus was in such proximity however, and he realised that perhaps he was being a little unfair.

The dragon was beginning to snore, its breaths hitched with a deep rumble and a tiny pool of saliva ran down its chin and onto the floor like a tiny waterfall. Gohan smiled at the sight. Icarus never really looked the brightest animal.

Maybe today would be a good day for relaxation, Kami knew Gohan needed some. With a final pat on the sleeping dragon's head, he left. Sensing Icarus's ki wouldn't be a problem should something happen, even though it was difficult to differentiate between animals.

The chill of the outside world was beginning to wane on him. Saiyans seemed to have superior natural protection against the elements. Their skin was a lot tougher and they generally had a better affinity with ki, which could be harnessed for warmth – not that they often needed to. It must have been incredibly helpful for eradicating a new planet's life. Foreign environments and weather could be extremely treacherous.

Gohan shuddered at the thought. He seldom pondered the destructive potential of the dead race he was reluctantly a member of. The thought of what the Saiyans used to do was positively repugnant, and went against everything he, and more importantly his father stood for.

Yet strangely, a part of him - albeit tiny - was extremely thankful for the inherited power, for without it, the Earth would have been destroyed a thousand times. Gohan thought it far too dramatic to refer to his genes as a curse, but they certainly felt like that sometimes. His mind wandered to broken plates, cutlery, glasses, tables and just about anything else found in the son house.

Still, over time, he had learned to shush that voice in his head. The one that screamed for him to destroy, to fight and conquer, the one that bellowed at him when facing an opponent. To obliterate it, to dominate it, to crush it, to see it beaten at his feet. And in more severe cases that voice even called for him to humiliate it.

One fight came to mind.

Suddenly, his blood was pumping.

Perhaps a walk _would_ be relaxing.

* * *

Chichi always found sunrise to be the best part of the day. Her and Goku would spend one-or-two mornings of every month, nestled tightly together in the garden, just watching the day begin in silence.

Surprisingly, it was still a hobby she held close to her heart. Even when experiencing it by oneself, there was still something profoundly beautiful about the way Earth's star leapt from the shadows, no matter how dark the night, and bathed the world in its golden glow. It was symbolic really.

Goku always was her star. For whenever the world was at its most terrible, and peace seemed hopeless, Son Goku would rise from the blackness, just like the sun, and make the Earth a brighter place again.

It didn't matter how horrible things got, her Goku would always be the same kind, warm, loving person she fell in love with. Nothing could ever corrupt that.

And then there was Gohan. Her son, who felt like the weight of the world, _and_ the sun was on his shoulders. And although he was a great person, and as good a child as any mother could hope to have. He simply wasn't Son Goku. He wasn't created to save humanity when things got their bleakest. He was a fragile little boy who didn't deserve to face the evil that her husband battled.

Chichi had to help Gohan realise that. Everything her son had done, was to protect her, he didn't need to feel that kind of pressure, Chichi didn't demand or expect his protection, she was his mother for Kami's sake, it should have been _her_ protecting _him_!

The sun climbed steadily up the sky, and the frost beneath Chichi was melting onto her hands. She had to tell her son that everything was going to be okay.

Suddenly, Wooden floors croaked with hurried steps, waking up Goten wasn't even considered. If Gohan was in trouble she had to help. The stairs, so difficult to ascend to a recently pregnant woman, were nothing more than a few laboured breaths.

Gohan's door swung open and she instantly recognised his scent.

There was a bundle of blankets and pillows atop his duvet, and under that…

Nothing.

Not again.

* * *

The term _wandering aimlessly_ wasn't entirely accurate. For any person alive or dead, whether they knew it or not, had a very instinctual capacity to sense ki. Which meant that anyone who thought themselves as travelling without a destination, was incorrect. In fact, most people who were walking without a conscious level of understanding as to where they were going, were actually being guided by the _subconscious_ part of the brain. Which is why people who felt themselves lost – in an emotional sense – always ended up exactly where they needed to be.

The same applied to Gohan, even though he himself was indeed very common with the nature of ki. Which is why the young half-Saiyan found walking to be an incredibly cleansing and enlightening experience.

Usually anyway.

Stumbling through the woods, his feet made a crunch with every step. Making it difficult to come into contact with any animals who weren't trying to eat him.

And Gohan always found those ones the easiest to get on with.

Icarus still slept. Not too many animals existed who would dare to fight a dragon, no matter how goofy said dragon looked. Gohan had seen Icarus show his more animalistic side only on a handful of occasions, and even as probably the most powerful person on the planet, he still found them to be terrifying. And so he harboured no fears for his dragon's well-being, and besides, if the worst came to the worst, Gohan could be with him in a flash.

Silently, a shadow moved between two trees. Gohan's body tightened. With a few thuds, the shadow grew closer. Moving with predatory grace, but seeming not to possess knowledge of its own presence being known.

Gohan could make out the tell-tale silhouette of a four-legged-creature, with a thin tale and two protruding teeth slicing upwards out the mouth like a pair of sharpened cutlasses. This wasn't the first time he had been stalked by a sabre-toothed tiger, and he wagered it probably wouldn't be the last.

With an almost inaudible hiss, the creature pumped its legs to full speed at an astonishing rate, mazing through the trees with the finest of balance. Its clawed feet finding perfect control with every stride.

Of course to Gohan, the whole thing seemed to be happening in slow motion. It wasn't until the tiger leapt, completely to the right of him, bypassing Gohan's waiting strike completely, did he realise that he wasn't the object of the creatures pray at all.

Above, somehow undetected, sat a tightly woven owl's nest. In it were what appeared to be new-borns as well as a fully grown female. – he could tell by the pattern of its feathers. – The mother was scrambling to get her two children in her mouth so she could take flight and find safety. She was failing.

The tiger made a leap for the branch that housed the nest but couldn't get the required height.

Gohan watched in horror as the Mother owl cooed manically, all while attempting to rescue her little babies.

Again the tiger jumped at the nest, although failing to secure its prize once more, it did manage to get a clean swipe of its claw at the branch, somewhat destabilizing it.

Suddenly, a primal anger blossomed in Gohan, a call of protection sounded in his mind and his body responded.

With one kick to the stomach, the tiger lay helpless on the floor, it's whole body in a spasm brought on by pain. Gohan loomed over the creature, his fury failing to recede.

He looked at predatory eyes, a part of him marvelling at how even the pupils themselves resembled shadowy blades. In a second, he had landed a punch, rendering the beast unconscious.

Hands as white as snow trembled. Something about the tiger was feeding his anger, and then suddenly, with a scream, Gohan collapsed to his knees.

He closed his eyes and threw his head to the floor. Cell, he could see him, on the back of his eyelids. The ghastly alabaster face, reminiscent of the horror of Freeza and his despicable father. Those hideous green horn-like pillars that stuck out of its head. Why was he seeing this?

Then, the pink eyes. Devoid of any compassion or mercy, those eyes that found perverse pleasure in squeezing every inch of Gohan's hidden power out.

The android who would have killed everyone Gohan knew and loved just to see him mad.

Well he was mad. As mad as he had ever been. There was no sight. The forest had gone, the tiger, the owls, everyone, they weren't there anymore.

All that existed was him and Cell. The world was black. In front, the creature stood tall, body poised in a stolen stance, mouth twisted into some sadistic smile.

Gohan felt his power climb, the horrible, wonderful sensation of his super Saiyan ascension. That voice, that awful voice, was screaming.

Make him suffer.

Then, something rough and wet brushed his face.

Icarus's big blue eyes were the first thing he saw.

Everything felt cold. Shakily, he sat up, taking in the world around. No sign of any owls. And the tiger had gone.

The dragon burped, a ball of orange fur shot out its mouth and floated harmlessly to the floor. One mystery solved.

The sun now screeched at the peak of the sky. Which meant…

Gohan was going to be in big trouble.

* * *

3 days. Half way there.

Cell never knew how slowly time could pass. Maybe that was part of hell? No, even he was subject to some of the same psychological defects other lifeforms experienced. Like how everything seemed to take longer when waiting for something.

It didn't make sense really. Why would Dr Gero programme his greatest creation in such a way? The mad doctor did have his kooks and quirks, like Cell's own body - parts which simply didn't need to exist, yet his creator had implemented them anyway. Cell was hardly one to appreciate fashion. Practicality took precedent over style any day of the week.

Perhaps that was the nature of time? The universe's fourth dimension may have been intrinsically linked to emotion, it was governed by a set of deities after all – whom were no stranger to emotion, regardless of what they liked to tell people.

It was yet another example of the universe's cruel design, he supposed.

Cell bet that time didn't go slowly for Son Gohan.

When he returned to Earth, he would certainly pay that Bulma woman a visit. She could teach him all about the nature of time, regardless of whether she wanted to or not.

But until then?

Cell needed a map of the cosmos.

After all, even universal destruction required planning.

* * *

Gohan had never been so close to losing control around his mother before in his life.

He felt completely sick after the incident in the forest, and a round of tearful screams, followed by a fit of relentless pampering wasn't really helping anyone.

Well, except for Goten of course, who seemed to find the whole thing oddly amusing.

Gohan was still shaking, even as he sat on the sofa, head softly tucked between his mother's chest and shoulder.

Chichi always knew when her son was upset, even sometimes when he seemed as happy as his father, she could just tell that Gohan was feeling sad deep down.

So when he had come back home, the entire back side of his body covered in mud, and hands trembling like some escaped mental patient, Chichi hadn't required any more convincing to see that something was wrong.

Seventeen courses, and twelves pots of tea later, they had both calmed down, and Chichi was starting to feel the full weight of spending half a day in utter panic fall upon her.

With a sigh, the princess of the ox kingdom let her eyes slip shut and her weary mind rest, her two sons were nestled cosily on either side of her, and she had everything left in the world she ever needed right there, in touching distance.

After making sure she was asleep – not just by sensing ki – Gohan gently laid his mother's sleeping body down flat on the sofa. Silently, he observed just how beautiful she looked even as she slept. Everything from before seemed to be easier to take when witnessing someone he loved so much in such a peaceful state.

Goten was asleep too. For once drifting off without his mother having to sing to him, or tuck him in, the boy was growing up already.

Gohan smirked. Casting his brother over his shoulder and ascending the stairs with the silence of a mouse. Cautiously, he sat Goten down in his crib, and waited to make sure the baby didn't wake.

Then finally, after one ki-sweep of the house, Gohan headed to his own room.

The door shut with a creek, but by then all feeling was gone. He didn't really know what to think. The flight home with Icarus had been spent in near silence, and Gohan's mind was a torrent of emotions then. But now…

It just didn't make sense.

Was Cell haunting him? He certainly wouldn't put it past the android.

It just felt as though no matter what happened, no matter how at peace he felt with everything, when something made Gohan angry, he would always be reminded of that day.

He would always lose his temper, and then someone else had to pay, because of his lack of control, just like when his father…

* * *

King Kai flinched as the grasp on his shoulder intensified. Still, he had enough decency to keep it to himself, given what was transpiring down below.

"You know Goku, if you really wanted, I could let you talk to him?"

Oh how Goku wanted to speak with his son. Every fibre of his heart _and_ soul were screaming at him to take the offer, to comfort Gohan, to put his son's mind at ease.

But that would be too easy.

Goku was dead, and he couldn't give his son false hope.

Gohan needed to do this without his father's help. And he had no doubt that his son could do it, even if it was painful to watch.

Gohan was so strong, stronger than anyone, physically and mentally, and he was only eleven!

There was a renewed sense of hope.

"No thank you King Kai, I think it's better if I don't interfere."

The god nodded solemnly. "I understand."


	8. Chapter 8

Day 4

The past year had been the most tedious of any that the three beings which made up Piccolo had experienced. Pressing matters, such as the guardianship of Earth had long since been taken care of. Dende, although still a child, adapted to his new home over time, and actually began appreciating it to the point where the little Namekian held Earth in the same light as his home-world, Namek.

Each day, bestowed with the peace and tranquillity which was fought tooth-and-nail for seemed like a blessing. Particularly for Dende, who had rather been thrown in the deep end as it were – a year ago, global peril seemed something of the norm to the new guardian, given the circumstances that had presented themselves when taking the job.

Gradually however, the Earth had settled down, back into a state of normalcy, eventually overcoming a brief spell of post-war euphoria following the world-shattering result of the cell games.

The people, whom resided down below the holy sanctity of the lookout, were more than happy to cling on to the somewhat tenuous claims of the now-hero-of-the-planet, Mr Satan. And for the meantime, Piccolo, and indeed all of the true competitors which had played a role in the downfall of the monster Cell, found begrudging acceptance in letting the _world champ_ (as he was known) take credit for their hard work.

There were only a handful of occasions where Piccolo had found any of Mr Satan's various following speeches and appearances to be in bad-spirit. Thankfully, the Namek had trained his mind over the years to not be so susceptible to the rage that so easily blossomed in the Saiyans. He only took the oaf to be mildly irritating, and on some occasions, if he was in a good mood, slightly amusing. How could a grown man do some of the things he had seen Mr Satan do?

Watching the boy had grown to be tough. Piccolo, who now beheld the wisdom of Kami _and_ Nail, knew when it was best to leave Gohan alone. He never took such breaks personally, but sharing a planet with humans for so long, had left the Namek with a strenuous understanding of their mindset and behaviour. Furthermore, the connection that Piccolo and Gohan shared was something far stronger than any type of friendship that could be broken by a year containing next-to-no contact.

It certainly didn't require any of the psychic abilities the Namek possessed to realise that Gohan had really been struggling with the loss of his father. And, in truth, Goku's death was a source of great depression and despair for Piccolo as well. Everyone had their own way of dealing with grief, his was meditation, but the boy, sometimes Piccolo worried.

And yesterday, that bottomless well of anger which had been so reluctantly tapped into as a consequence of the actions of Cell, had been revisited. Gohan, who'd been lured away from his home, to some forgotten forest, by that blasted dragon Piccolo had never been fond of… he lost control again.

Piccolo sensed it, felt it. It blazed across his mind for the shortest of moments, gone in a flash. More reminiscent of the boy's previous outbursts of rage, uncontrolled, erratic, and chaotic fluctuations of ki. He felt the power, the ascended fury of the Super Saiyan. Something which still inspired the deepest-running inklings of fear in the Namekian.

Today, he would visit Gohan. A risky move yes, but riskier still was the idea of someone unintentionally awakening the apocalyptic power that shackled the boy. For at this moment in time, no one could stop him if he lost control like he did at the Cell games.

Piccolo had no doubts in Gohan's morality. But what he witnessed on that day a year ago, had unfortunately forever changed his opinion about his closest friend. He would never dream of blaming Gohan for what happened. And in truth, the world owed the boy so much, even if _he_ thought it the other way around. But every night, in the privacy of meditation, that scene haunted Piccolo.

That moment, where for the first time in his life, he felt scared both for _and_ of Gohan. Cell was in the air, his body burnt and beaten to an ugly mass of pulped limps and ashen flesh. Goku had screamed at his son, pleading with him, begging even, to finish the android off. And Gohan looked at him with a face so unrecognisable, a face so twisted into a creation of sadism, born out of the horrible circumstances which evidently ate at the boy throughout his short life. "No father, I'm not done with him yet, I'm going to make him suffer."

Today would be tough. But he owed it to Gohan. If there was any single way he could help, then Piccolo would surely gladly offer his companionship.

And maybe, the two could even get a bit of sparring in.

* * *

It had not been a good day so far.

As it turned out, Icarus wasn't the only one to notice Gohan's incident in the forest the day before. Vegeta, equipped rather characteristically in his Saiyan-style fighting armour, had been lurking a few hundred yards outside the Son residence. Failing to conceal any of his royal life-force, Gohan knew that the prince desired his presence.

Which is why he had warned his mother to stay inside for her own safety, and to keep a watchful eye on Goten. – not that she _needed_ reminding.

Upon first setting sights on the lone heir to the Saiyan kingdom, it had been painfully obvious that their little meeting was mutually despised. A trademark scowl, and a stoic pair of folded arms were physical confirmation. When Gohan hovered down as passively and as harmlessly as his body would actually permit, to where the full-blooded Saiyan leant petulantly against a defiantly rigid maple tree, he was somewhat at a loss for words, something which rarely happened to a member of the Son family.

The two of them had simply stood there in unbearable silence for a while, the only sound being the cool morning breeze, playing delicately with the scarlet leaves that hung above. Few situations Gohan had previously experienced had been so excruciatingly awkward. He was completely frozen and dared not move a muscle, as the prince's gaze was fixed firmly on him.

Thankfully, Vegeta had inadvertently diffused the situation when the prince's alabaster boots began trudging several purposeful strides in the direction of the son of his greatest enemy.

The pair were as close to face-to-face as their respective heights would allow. Gohan's lip quivering as the prince's eyes never left him. There was always something unnerving about Vegeta's stare, Gohan found. When looking into those cunning, tenacious eyes, one could see the full scale of the prince-of-all-Saiyan's ruthless nature, as if you were looking directly into his soul. Vegeta was so unbelievably tactical, and resourceful when it came to battle, and would often leave the true depths of his enormous power to the imagination of his enemy, if the particular fight demanded such deceit, but in his stare he held an unequivocal confidence that must have confused and enraged his enemies to no end, truly he was an artist of war.

The prince's scowl softened to a frown as he addressed the boy. "You're getting weak." His royal nose wrinkled in disgust with the statement.

"Excuse me?" Gohan didn't really know whether to feel offended by the remarks, or flattered that Vegeta had taken such an interest in him to notice his own physical condition. In the end, his reply had come out with far more impertinence than had been intended, in fact, Gohan hadn't held any desire to annoy the prince at all.

He was surprised when no acts of violence were committed. Nonchalantly, the prince turned his back on Gohan, although the later still felt the stare of the former carving a hole right into the pit of his stomach somehow. "Tell me boy, how often do you train?"

It was the question Gohan had been dreading. His Saiyan side had been screaming at him, siding with the prince, babbling incoherently that he should have been furthering his unbridled power for months now. Alas, there was no use in trying to lie. The fact of the matter was that they both knew Gohan hadn't been training at all. "Well, to be honest, since the Cell games…" He visibly cringed at the words. Vegeta dared him to finish his statement, his eyes lighting menacingly and widening in anticipation. "I haven't actually trained at all, not properly that is."

The prince took every word as a poison-tipped-dagger to the heart that was his Saiyan ancestry. Gohan often found the obsession with their people's ancient past to be baffling. Here was a man who would murder one of his own men, despite him being (at the time) a quarter of the remaining populace of the Saiyans, simply for failing him. Yet any bad words spoken against the forgotten race were taken as near-blasphemy. Sometimes Gohan wandered whether Vegeta regretted killing Nappa.

Now seething, the prince clenched his fists at his sides in a fit of irritation, a gesture Gohan was fully aware of. "And just why the hell is that?! You think just because Cell's dead, that there's no more need to maintain your power?!"

Suddenly, Gohan found his muscles tightening defensively, his blood pumping a beat faster. "Look Vegeta, after everything that's happened, I wanted to take a break from fighting." He had looked at the ground, pleading, something the Prince found to be pathetic. "Since the age of five, after being taken by Raditz, there's been no stop, no break."

Vegeta's eyebrows tightened together as Gohan continued. "First there was the arrival of the Saiyans, then Namek, and then the androids, I hadn't spent a day for over six years without worrying about the Earth, and worrying about losing one of my family or friends, and then… Cell came…"

By this point, a vein protruded from the prince's forehead, throbbing out his annoyance with the boy. "I just don't want to fight anymore, because when I do fight, I end up losing people I care about, and it haunts me every day."

Suddenly, and most unexpectedly, Vegeta seemed to have calmed. Taking in a huge inhale of the morning air, and exhaling all the pent up anger that had appeared to be plaguing him. _Almost_ all of it. "So? That's it? That's the reason you've stopped? Kakkarot's precious son has been fighting too long and his little feelings hurt?"

Gohan turned on the prince, staring out through the forest, and into the direction of his home. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Vegeta begun walking menacingly towards the boy, his prey, in a second rounding him completely and grabbing a fistful of shirt. "You listen here Gohan…"

"Let go of me please."

The prince's grip tightened, his anger back in full force. "I didn't come here to talk about your psychological problems, I came here to better understand your power." He physically shook Gohan with every syllable.

"What do you mean?"

Finally, the prince let go, and seemingly didn't have it within his royal self to look at the child for what he had to say next. "I need your help." Spoken as a near whisper, and in a tone so tender and sincere that the words themselves felt unnatural coming from the prince of all Saiyan's mouth.

"My help?"

"Hn."

"With what?"

Rage returned. "Don't play the fool with me brat, I know for a fact that your mother values you as one of the more intelligent creatures that resides on this backwater planet."

Gohan had learnt over the years that the best way to deal with Vegeta when he was addressing you, was to remain as calm and as civil as possible, punctuating every act and sentence with the politeness a member of royalty deserved. "I'm sorry Vegeta, but I'm not trying to upset you, I'm being very genuine when I say I don't understand what you're asking of me? In what way do you want me to help you?"

"Transform." The prince leered through gritted teeth.

Gohan was extremely reluctant to release his super Saiyan powers, the memories that came with them were always ones of bloodshed and battle. "I won't ask you again, boy."

Hopefully, this would be over with soon, and Gohan could go home and get something to eat, his stomach had been rumbling like a landslide. "Fine." The prince would never have relented; he could be extremely stubborn.

Ki swelled, and wind produced unnaturally whipped about the trees, in a flash of golden light, Gohan transformed, his expression hardening as his eyes had coloured to a haunting shade of teal. "Good."

Even the almighty prince seemed somewhat anxious to mouth his next statement. "Now, the next one."

"What?"

"Do not make me repeat myself, I said the next one, the transformation you used to defeat Cell, I want to see it."

Gohan's eyes widened to that of a child who was watching his family be torn apart right in front of him. "No…" Spoken like when his father had…

"Now!" A cruel smirk replaced the prince's frown, though Gohan could tell that Vegeta wasn't feeling as confident as his illustrious posture and facial expression would have one think.

"No Vegeta, I never want to feel like that again."

The prince scoffed. "You're a coward, show me your ascension, before I make you."

Gohan's mind was awash with grim memories. "You know that won't work Vegeta, Cell nearly killed me and I still wouldn't give in to what he wanted to me to do…"

Vegeta knew how true this was. Something compelled him not to try and attempt Cell's other method of coaxing the boy into releasing his power. Should he have harmed any of the son family, he had no doubts that Gohan would indeed kill him. Which left one option.

The corners of his lips snarling upwards jaggedly, making him look like some wicked witch, rather than a Saiyan warrior. "You always were so disappointing Gohan, just like your father…"

How had he not seen this coming?

The prince always had a way of getting under his opponent's skin, and that's all Gohan was to Vegeta, an opponent, or rather a means to an end, a hurdle that had to be overcome to achieve the power he desired. Even still though, those words had stung.

"I'm not surprised that idiot Kakkarot never returned, he always was one to walk away from his problems…"

"Vegeta…"

"What I say is the truth. I'm sure you never stopped to look at it before, because like everyone else on this pitiful planet, you can't accept the harshness of reality. You don't really think Kakkarot spent that year on Yardratt just to train, do you?" His tone tantalising, the inflexion on the last words dramatized as to insult the maturity of the boy.

It was working. It shouldn't have been. Gohan felt so ashamed, so upset with himself, he hadn't grown up, Vegeta was playing dirty like Cell had, and he was winning.

Quickly, he decided it best he leave before one of them did something foolish. Unfortunately, the prince was on him in a flash, grabbing the boy's collar and heaving him down from the air before he could fully engage in flight. "Let go of me."

"Your dad's not coming back boy. He's not coming back because he doesn't care about you or your wretched mother."

It really hadn't been a good day up to now.

And so here Gohan was, being held against his will by a man who sought to corrupt the purest and happiest memories of Gohan's life. He wanted to smir everything that was held dear. He wanted to blacken the name of Son Goku, the greatest fighter that ever lived, and perhaps, the greatest ever person.

It was like someone had let a bomb off in Gohan's head. The barriers erected by human compassion shattering, that awful, shallow voice was free. There was a ringing, and everything else fell silent.

Gohan could see the prince, could see how his face scrunched with grave confidence, and then satisfaction, before sinking into an expression of sheltered fear. His mouth hung open and eyes as round as the moon twinkled briefly with that misplaced Saiyan courage.

It really was like Gohan wasn't in his own body, he felt his hair shoot upwards to touch the sky, fuelled by an ascension in power. Muscles so scarcely used in the past year bulked to unnatural sizes and the world even felt smaller with the marginally increased height.

For one chaotic moment, Gohan truly thought his entire Saiyan side might take over, it was with everything left that his human half had to give, that he managed to anchor any sanity and rationality to his thoughts. Unfortunately for the prince however, that was an anchor in a sea of unrelenting rage. Gohan was so incredibly angry, his whole body felt as though it was alight. The blood under pale skin burning with agitation.

Cautiously, Vegeta backed away a few paces, still keeping his posture as smug and as confident as possible. "Impressive, boy." A lone fork of electricity danced into life a second after the prince's words.

Gohan didn't say anything, his eyes narrowed dangerously on his target. Even then Vegeta could see in those teal-shaded-slits, the pure, primal animosity found only in a Saiyan. The boy's stance shifted to one of utter nonchalance. The only thing giving away his obvious fury were the hands clenching and unclenching in an uneven rhythm down by his sides.

Vegeta felt his dry throat swallow. With a deafening roar, he let his own power climb, ascending to the highest tier of super Saiyan strength he had mastered in the time chamber.

"You'll pay for what you said about my father." Gohan's tone was emotionless, but carried with it an unnervingly controlled spite, like the words were coated in the thinnest sheet of winter ice.

"We'll see about that."

"Stop!"

Between them, floated Piccolo. His sheet-white cape being caught in the gentle late-morning breeze as weighted feet met the grass with a pat. "Vegeta, go home."

The prince spat beside his foot. "Don't interfere with Saiyan business Namek, this is between me and the boy."

Piccolo replied with a wry smirk that contained the wiseness that had been bestowed on the nameless Namek by the former guardian of Earth. "There's nothing _business_ about this Vegeta. You're just a bully, now get out of here before Gohan changes his mind."

The prince realised it was better if he lived to fight another day, surely if the boy was that easy to antagonise than it would only be a matter of time before he could understand the ascension.

"You should learn to fight your own battles kid, instead of letting a pathetic fool like him fight them for you."

Gohan remained eerily quiet. Piccolo hadn't even looked at him since arriving, but from ki sensing alone, it was obvious that his former student was utterly furious.

After powering down, the prince had left, darting off into the noon sky, reduced to nothing but a tiny blip amidst the merciless sunshine.

Piccolo eyed the half-Saiyan for a moment, the pairs gaze locked in what seemed like an eternity of silence. "Are you okay?

"Fine." Teeth gritted

The past year had truly been dull for the nameless Namekian, Earth was blanketed in a peace that Piccolo's own home-world shared. In fact, the reason for not returning to Namek in the first place was because Earth at the time was foreshadowed to be under threat from the androids.

Most days were spent at the lookout, watching over the guardian of Earth, and from a distance, making sure Gohan was okay, and dealing with the loss of his father as well as he could. Even before Piccolo had merged with Kami, he had the knowhow to realise when the boy did and did not want to be visited, and although the pair hadn't seen each other for a while, he knew that the mutual love and respect would always be there between them.

However, it was because of this lingering tediousness over the past year that Piccolo had decided to make a very brash decision, one that the wiser part of his brain, mainly dominated by Kami, was bellowing at him not to make.

Piccolo had never been a coward.

"I think we should spar."

* * *

Chichi had an idea.

A fairly stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless.

It was a long shot, but if it could help Gohan, then she'd consider the prospect of not trying as insulting to her eldest son.

Throughout the course of knowing Goku, there was always one redeeming factor to the life of danger and adventure that he led.

One get out of jail free card, one last resort.

Being told that Gohan would be fighting in the Cell games was just about the most terrifying and despairing news Chichi had ever heard. She had never fully forgiven Goku for what he put her through, nor did she ever plan to. But even back then, there was always a way to make things right.

It was about ensuring Gohan didn't find out, in fact, no one could discover fully what Chichi had planned. Of course, Bulma could be of help, but she too would have to be spared the full details.

If Gohan was still so upset, and Chichi couldn't help, kami knew she had tried, then there was one way to make everything better.

* * *

Two more days.

There was a star system, only a few light years away from the sun. Cell had been fantasising about it. Life bloomed there, just as richly and as vibrantly as on Earth. That would be his second stop. Though in many ways, he liked to think it his first destination of a new journey. Once the home of Son Gohan had been reduced to nothing more than stardust, then Cell's new existence would begin, a new life.

He would thoroughly enjoy snuffing out the candle of life on those alien worlds. There would be no more Cell games, something so organised would lack the raw, chaotic thrill of simply attacking a planet without warning. Watching a proud civilisation crumble and falter in utter pandemonium was the height of all ecstasy to the android.

If Cell was to be extremely greedy, he would have liked the Saiyans to still be around. Destroying their home-world and armies would have been one of the greatest pleasures the universe had to offer. A race so proud and arrogant, so assured of themselves. In truth, they were tiny, their power was incomparable to his might. What he could do with so much as the smallest flicker of effort, they would struggle to replicate even when combining their entire populace for the task.

Still, you couldn't have it all.

And anyway, those cell's inherited from other fighters were so powerfully intertwined into Cell's genetic makeup, that the memories of others, sometimes felt like his own. If he really concentrated, he could revisit the moment Freeza had destroyed Vegeta. The maniacal cackling of the tyrant, as the fires of a dying world reflected hauntingly from his ruby tainted eyes. Despite being green, Cell was hardly one to ever experience envy, even still though, that was one night the android wished he could have experienced himself.

As the days had rolled on, Cell had been growing more and more confident in his own abilities. The second battle with Son Gohan was fast approaching and those Saiyan-inherited cells were practically buzzing in anticipation.

Beneath that however….

* * *

Before today, Piccolo had never truly been beaten to within an inch of his life. Which was strange if he thought about it, the Namek was a warrior through-and-through. Sure, he had died, but that was a result of taking the brunt of a Ki wave head on, directed at the son of his greatest rival in an act of selfless sacrifice. Over the years he had lost limbs, taken devastating attacks to vital areas, and been completely overwhelmed by enemies wielding unspeakable power, but on no other occasion had he been within one more hit of perishing.

It was ironic really that the person who he had died trying to save, was the one to deliver the beating of his lifetime. As it so happened, Gohan had a lot of pent up anger, and Piccolo unintentionally had presented himself as more-or-less a punching bag for the day.

After the first hour or so, the Namek realised that fighting back was a pointless endeavour. Gohan was just too powerful, and angry, oh kami was he angry.

The day had progressed in a pattern of the ascended Saiyan pretty much pummelling his once-teacher into a pulp in various different ways. There were small breaks, but very rarely did the Namek find five minutes to recuperate. In fact, a section of the _fight,_ had more resembled a one-player game of squash. Gohan would let out a fraction of his fury by smashing Piccolo into the mountain which overlooked the Son house, and all the surrounding area, only for the Namek to bounce back, and be launched, even harder back to where he had come from.

In a strange way, Piccolo felt glad he had intervened in Gohan and Vegeta's little altercation. He possessed full confidence that his former student would in fact calm down before he finished him off, whereas had it been the prince facing the boy's wrath, well, Vegeta would most likely of been joining Goku in otherworld.

Still though, it was hard to feel anything other than _pain_ given Piccolo's current position. Sprawled out on the grass, covered in violet blood almost to the point where it looked as though the Namek was marinated. Not to mention that every bone in his body was either completely shattered, or at the very least dislocated at some obtuse angle.

At first, Piccolo had decided that challenging Gohan to a spar would probably mean his death, and as the day dragged on, such a conclusion seemed more and more likely. However, there was something about the boy that was intriguing. In terms of conversation, the time they had spent together was lacking, but it was the feint whispers Piccolo could hear every now and then, in between assaults, that really interested him.

He wasn't one-hundred-percent sure, but it really sounded as though the boy was addressing him as Cell. Which on the surface was extremely worrying, but the more the Namek thought about it, the more it seemed a positive for Gohan. Goku's son had finally accepted that there was only one person to blame for his father's death, as well as all the horrible things that happened a year ago. And it certainly wasn't himself.

It was hard not to be proud of his former student. Gohan had fully surpassed Piccolo, and indeed everyone else, his power was almost limitless, and that training he and Goku had pushed themselves through in the time chamber had served to further the boy's fighting technique, truly there wasn't much, if anything that Piccolo could teach Gohan now.

Consciousness was hanging on by a thread, in the distance, the sound of shoes meeting grass, followed by eerily distinct footsteps. It was a shame Piccolo didn't have the energy to lift his head up, or do anything for that matter, because if he did, it would be easy to tell if Gohan was going to kill him or not.

Although all other senses were failing, due to unrelenting pain and fatigue, one sense, was so naturally trained in the mind, that it was prevailing through a crippled body. Piccolo could feel it, the boy's ki had plummeted.

"Mr Piccolo…" Came a voice from a worried child.

It was with every remaining ounce of fortitude, strength and perseverance that had been ground into the nameless Namek over his long life, that he used to summon the will to say three words.

"Sensu…front...p-pocket."

* * *

"Hello, this is Miss Bulma Briefs speaking, who am I talking to?" Chichi could hear an audible cringe in the word Miss, her best friend was still sore after failing to convince Vegeta that they should get married.

"Hello Bulma, it's—"

"Chichi!" The older woman croaked, practically deafening the call's other participant.

"How's Goten? And Gohan? I was about to ring you, he was with Vegeta earlier and—"

"Listen Bulma, they're both fine. I need to ask you a favour."

There was a pause, and for a second, Chichi had an irrational fear that the head of Capsule Corporation had somehow cottoned on to her plan, Bulma always was a complete genius.

"A favour? Sure, what is it?"

After a hushed sigh of relief, she continued. "I need to borrow the dragon radar, and an aircar. I've got to ask Shenron something."

This was probably the biggest hitch in the plan, the make-or-break moment, if Bulma agreed to help, then they could get this done. There was a feint crackling on the other end. "Talk to Shenron?" She asked disbelievingly. "Whatever for?"

"Please Bulma, it's very important, it's for Gohan's sake, I really need your help." She'd be damned if she cried, but hot, stinging tears burned at the corner of her eyes suddenly. A weary voice threatening to shatter with every syllable.

"Okay okay! come on by tomorrow Chichi, we'll work everything out." Bulma was used to the Ox princess's tendency to break down in hysterics, for such a strong woman, Chichi really did cry a lot.

Music to her ears. "Thank you Bulma, I'll see you tomorrow." She sniffed.

"Don't mention it, bye for now."

"Goodbye."

Step one was complete. Chichi had nearly blown the whole operation with her antics however, and she would need to maintain control far better if she really wanted to do this.

* * *

Sensu beans were magical little things. In one gulp, broken bones would knit back together, damaged organs unbruised and realigned, and torn and burnt skin was replaced anew. Truly, their worth rivalled even that of the dragon balls.

Still, humiliation was one thing neither magics could fix. And Piccolo _and_ Gohan were feeling extremely humiliated right now.

Gohan couldn't believe how badly he had lost control. Sure Piccolo had offered to spar, and Vegeta had purposefully antagonised him, but that was no real reason to beat his friend up quite to the degree he had, or at all really. Piccolo on the other hand, was reeling at the fact he had been so easily defeated. He was even sure Gohan had literally wiped the floor up with him at one point.

And so the pair sat in somewhat of an awkward silence, rivalling even the one that had begun Gohan's day earlier, when he had first met the prince out in the woods. Neither really succeeding in producing anything appropriate to say. Gohan had already apologised a hundred times over. And to his surprise, Piccolo had actually taken what had happened quite well, instead blaming himself for interfering when he should have left Gohan alone.

What was really disturbing, was just what condition the area that had played victim to the day's events was in. No long standing maple tree, nor clustered rock formation, or even any blade of grass lay untouched. For one tiny pocket of the world, it looked as though a war had taken place. Just another reminder that when Gohan fought, everything else paid the price.

"You shouldn't think like that." Somehow, Piccolo's psychic abilities always slipped his best friends mind.

Before Gohan could counter, the Namek continued. "Sometimes, when the situation calls for it, violence is the only answer. Vegeta disgraced your father's honour, and had I not have stepped in, after what you did to me, there's no way he would have dared do anything like that again."

"He wouldn't have done anything like that again because I would have killed him." Gohan retorted, with a voice so coldly devoid of the emotion such a statement would normally contain. Piccolo was taken off guard, briefly checking that the boy wasn't still in his ascended Saiyan form.

"Maybe, maybe not. People like Vegeta only listen to violence, unless you want him to walk all over you, you have to speak with action, rather than words."

Gohan briefly stared at his feet, before casting his gaze off into the setting sun, the once glorious golden light reduced to a molten orange hue, dulling the wild landscape, and setting the horizon ablaze. Piccolo reached out, ruffling the boy's shaggy hair. A passive gesture so secretly missed over the past year. "I know you don't like to fight Gohan, that's what makes you who you are, but sometimes that's just the way the world is…" His Namekian eyes squinting, searching for something Gohan wasn't aware of. "Cruel."

"You sound like sixteen." Gohan offered solemnly, taking note of the softness of the grass, and how delicate it felt in his grasp.

A more welcomed silence began without warning, Gohan gently let his head fall back to the floor, his body and mind were exhausted from the day's events.

To his surprise, Piccolo remained stiff, rigid, his clawed fingers scratching at recently-healed knees anxiously. "Earlier, when we were fighting, I heard you saying something Gohan."

The boy's relaxation long forgotten as his head shot up, eyes laced with concern.

"You thought I was Cell didn't you?"

Today just kept on getting worse.

"I-I can't help it, whenever I get angry, I just always see him, then I lose control, I forget everything." Suddenly, the world seemed so insecure to Gohan. Someone else knew about his problem, and it was terrifying. "Am I going mad Mr Piccolo?"

Most unexpectedly, the Namek laughed. "Of course you are, your father's Goku and your mother's Chichi, I'd be more concerned if you weren't going mad."

Piccolo seemed to take some sick pleasure in the look of consternation on his former student's face, given the gap in power, anything would be used as payback. "Gohan, you need to stop worrying about everything. Your anxiety is eating away at you, and you'll end up with a head full of grey hair by the time you're twenty."

The Namek smiled, and for the briefest of moments, Gohan was sure he was speaking directly to Kami. The warmth behind Piccolo's face was so uncharacteristic, it even reminded him of…

"Your Father would be saying the same thing."

"It's just so hard. I can't get Cell's face out of my mind. I'm scared I'm going to hurt someone eventually, just like I hurt you today."

There was a weary sigh. "Perhaps there's something I can do to help you."

"Really?"

"I'm not sure, but what I know is that we need to rid your body of all the anxiety and anger."

Gohan practically scoffed before well taught manners prevented him from doing so, a disgusted sneer crossing his features, like a rotten smell had caught on the wind. "Easier said than done."

"True, but I think I might know a technique."

"A technique?"

"Yes, I think it's about time I taught you how to duplicate your body."

"You mean…"

All of a sudden, Piccolo was the demon king again, his dangerous smirk stretched from ear-to-ear. "The split-form technique."

* * *

"Hello Mother."

"Gohan, you're home!"

"Sorry I was gone so long, I've been with Mr Piccolo, and if it's okay with you, I was going to meet him again tomorrow."

Chichi could practically taste the dragon balls. Her false smile, fabricated through a childhood of royal duties, and perfected in a marriage of dealing with death and sorrow, took shape for the first time in a while. "Of course it is Gohan."


	9. Chapter 9

Day 5

Gohan felt queasy, an unfamiliar sensation.

Looking into one's own eyes without the reflection of a mirror, or a body of water, was something he truly hadn't been prepared for.

Those strange thoughts about several different versions of himself existing, each differentiated by a particular frame of mind, seemed all the more plausible as he eyed his own double with a strange sense of curiousness, and a most surreal fear.

Piccolo had warned that the first few times might have such an affect, but this was the seventeenth attempt Gohan had made to use the split-form technique today, and things seemed to be getting harder.

Every try, Gohan would perform the technique perfectly, only to fail upon completion, sometimes collapsing in a heap, or vomiting, and even nearly feinting after the first try.

"Empty your mind" Piccolo would say as calmly as his intensely tested patience would allow him.

But it didn't matter how many times the Namek tried to soothe his student, Gohan just couldn't stay as two separate beings for more than a few moments.

As if on que, the double faded into a state of transparency, before floating forcibly back into the original copy of Gohan, as if it were being sucked in by some unseen vacuum.

He immediately fell on his backside, wiping away the sweat from his forehead and making an attempt to calm his ragged breathing.

"It's no use Mr Piccolo, I just can't hold it for long enough to do anything of any value."

Piccolo looked away, annoyed with his student. "Tss, didn't you learn anything in our training?"

"I'm sorry, but this is completely different, I've never even attempted anything like this before."

He roughly pulled his pupil back to his feet by the scruff of his neck. "And before I took you away all those years ago, you had never trained before. It's the same principle."

"Well I guess, but—"

"But nothing! Now either quit your whining, or go home to your mother."

Something looked as though it had stirred in Gohan, and for a tiny flicker, Piccolo thought that the boy might actually be about to have a second wind. Unfortunately, an ill-timed rumble interrupted any promising signs of progression.

Gohan laughed sheepishly in that annoying way his father used to, and Piccolo found the more tolerant, understanding part of his mind fading away behind a mask of white hot rage.

"Can we resume after I get something to eat?"

The Namek quickly felt the tether of his anger loosening, an act of pacification he was reluctantly becoming familiar with, and had a few people to blame for, Kami, Nail, and the boy himself to name just a few. With a sigh, he returned to his meditation.

 _Saiyans._

* * *

The intergalactic tournament had come and gone in the space of one short day. And after overcoming Pikkon in the final, Goku and indeed Pikkon had both been deemed to have broken the rules, meaning that their promised lesson with the grand Kai was to be delayed by a couple thousand years. Still, King Kai was happy, he had his planet back.

"The split-form technique huh?"

"Yeah, Piccolo thinks it'll help Gohan with all his anxiety."

"Hmm, that Namek of yours might be on to something there. Your move Bubbles."

King Kai was sitting outside his house, on a table he had moved from his living room out onto the grass near his most prized possession, the car he had won in a bet with south kai a few hundred years back, when a fighter from the north quadrant bested one of the south's finest scholars in a game of chess.

South Kai had complained, pointing to the fact that chess was a game only played in the area of space under King Kai's jurisdiction, but that didn't stop the wry old god from collecting his payment, in the form of the car of his dreams.

As it turned out, the fighter from the north, who was severely lacking in the brain department – a factor that had been the main hook into south Kai accepting the terms of the bet in the first place – had been personally trained by King Kai in the art of chess in a room similar to that of the hyberbolic time chamber for a number of years.

King Kai to this day was probably in the top five chess players in the universe. Which is why he was currently playing Bubbles, who seemed as per usual, to be confused and exasperated by the whole ordeal.

Goku was engaged in another round of shadow-sparring, deciding not to train in his super-Saiyan form just yet.

"Well to be honest, I'm not too knowledgeable when it comes to that kind of thing. I don't see what Gohan has to worry about, he's super smart, just like his mother, and he's probably the strongest fighter in the universe."

King Kai smirked as Bubbles played right into his trap, his rounded sunglasses gleaming briefly from the shine of a star that wasn't there.

"Well that's because life's extremely simple to someone like you Goku, you have to remember that most people feel that there's more to it than fighting, your son included."

Goku paused mid-punch, his hair was sticking to his forehead, which was coated in a thick sheet of sweat, even though the Saiyan had trained in much stronger gravity, there was something much more real about King Kai's planet, when compared to the artificial gravity rooms he had trained in before, or even the time chamber, which was something Goku remembered to have a strange sense of unnaturalness saturating it.

"I know that; it's just I don't understand why he's so upset. It's not like I'm suffering or anything, he knows I'm happy here, so why is he still so angry?"

Bubbles hooted and thrusted his arms in the air like an excited child as he moved his pawn, something King Kai had been expecting. "Well judging by the beating he gave Piccolo yesterday, it's Cell he's still so furious about."

Goku often found that if he thought about people too much, he would end up confusing himself to no end. Which is why he tended not to understand why all of his various friends and family did most of the things that they did. In truth, it was better to simply let them get on with it, worrying about such things seemed pointless.

But after dying, Goku realised he spent more time trying to understand his son than he probably did the entire time he was alive, which was a fact he felt a little guilty about.

Gohan was like an enigma, at every twist and turn the boy would react in a way completely unexpected to Goku, and every time the dead father thought he had a new piece of the puzzle, the puzzle itself would only grow larger.

Goku even surmised that it was perhaps this desperation to understand his son that was hindering his ascension in power. A selfish thought really, but it wasn't like he didn't care about Gohan, he wouldn't have spent all this time trying to understand him if that were the case.

Goku began sparring again, only punching harder than before. "Do you think he'll ever get over Cell?"

King Kai didn't have to say checkmate for bubbles to know that he had won, instead he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin, and took a sip of freshly brewed tea. "Well I don't know about that Goku, but I think Piccolo might have the right idea trying to separate all the negative emotions out of Gohan's body. That is after all, how Piccolo, or rather his father was created in the first place."

Once again the Saiyan found his mind wondering, unable to train any longer, he opted to fall, sitting on the stiff grass, before laying down completely. "Wow, do you think what happened with King Piccolo could happen with Gohan?"

The old god shook his head, before finishing off the last remnants of tea that had been steaming away in his cup. "I wouldn't worry about that Goku. Saiyans and humans work very differently to Namekians."

Goku found his former mentor's words to only be slightly comforting. "If you say so King Kai."

* * *

For a genius, Bulma Briefs didn't seem to ask a lot of questions.

Chichi had arrived early in the morning, before the heir of Capsule Corp was even fully dressed, and since then, they had talked about more-or-less everything except why Chichi was there in the first place.

Maybe it was because she had seemed so emotional on the phone the day before. It didn't really matter either way. What mattered was that they had already collected two dragon balls, and it was barely even late-afternoon. Of course such a task would have been a lot easier had one of them been able to fly, like Goku, or Gohan, or any other of her late-husband's wacky friends.

But with one of Bulma's state-of-the-art aircars, and a fully functioning dragon radar, their unenviable task had seemed like nothing more than a piece of cake so far.

As they had travelled far north to find the first ball, Chichi had realised how long it had been since she had last gone exploring. As a princess, her presence in the kingdom was required at all times, but even still, those days were over, and she had barely left the family home on more than a handful of occasions in recent years.

The chilly breeze, born of endless snow and ice from the region harbouring the second dragon ball seemed almost like a natural wake-up call to the Ox Princess.

After she had sorted this whole mess out with the help of Shenron, then maybe her and Gohan and Goten could go on holiday somewhere. Just the three of them, somewhere other than home, it would be extremely fulfilling, and Kami knew she needed a break.

"You okay over there?" Bulma quickly cocked her head at her friend, before concentrating eyes returned to the open sky in front.

"Oh me? Yeah I'm fine."

Bulma seemed less than convinced. Most annoyingly to Chichi, the older of the two women decided to finally mouth the question which had no doubt been pestering her mind since yesterday.

"So Chichi, what is it you actually want to ask Shenron?"

"Just something about Gohan."

Those bold blue eyes remained unconvinced, and Chichi sensed the analysing glare of her best friend scanning her up and down. The younger of the two women felt as though she were in an interview situation with the head of Capsule Corp, and it wasn't going well.

"Come on Chichi, you can tell me, I'm not going to stop you whatever it is."

The bitter breeze of the north whipped about malevolently, rustling blue and black hair alike. Behind it however, was an eerie silence. Words were failing, and hot, screaming emotion in the Ox-Princess threatened to burst through, tearing down the walls of control built by a life of royalty.

Chichi took a deep breath, and remembered the lessons her father, the Ox-king had told her about telling people the truth. "I'm going to ask him to help Gohan is all."

Bulma seemed genuinely surprised, taken aback by the cryptic answer. Being a genius, she no doubt found some kind of weird pleasure in trying to solve things like this, something Chichi would never understand herself. However, the black-haired woman was glad this particular time, as Bulma seemed to accept her answer as a challenge, meaning no more questions were inbound.

Instead, two pairs of focused eyes returned to the view in front. The snowy landscape, cornered by a set of dark, grey mountains, with the thickest sheet of northern ice at their peaks provided a chillingly dead horizon. Such a place was naturally peppered with high velocity winds, and the gloomiest blanket of mist, the sky was as grim and as lifeless as the frozen lakes below.

Truly Chichi felt as though Bulma and herself had stumbled upon the land of the dead. And it was doing nothing to brighten her sour mood. With any luck however, the rest of the trip would be spent in silence. The only noise being the steady hum of the aircar, and the biting, frosty breeze dancing amidst the tumbling snowflakes.

The third dragon ball couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

Relentless, that's what Piccolo was.

If Gohan wasn't ridding his stomach of his previous meals due to ailment, or taking a much-needed breather that seemed to end before it had begun, he was practising the split-form technique.

Piccolo's training regimen was as cruel and as merciless as he remembered it being.

The good old days indeed.

"Okay Gohan, this time, I want you to try something different for me."

Currently, Gohan was slumped on his behind, cushioned by the overgrown grass just east of Mount Paozu. Looming over was the irate figure of Piccolo, his weighted turban framing that sharp, demonic face, and his fangs glinted dangerously in the afternoon sun.

Though the demon lord looked particularly menacing today, his words carried a sombre patience and understanding to them, something which sounded strange to his student.

Gohan shielded his eyes from the burning sun as he spoke. "What's that Mr Piccolo?"

"I want you to get angry."

In a way, Gohan knew this was coming. All throughout his life, the key to overcoming any obstacle seemed to be his inexplicably well-known anger. In truth, he thought of it as nothing more than a burden, and a source of great anguish.

"Don't look at me like that." The demon warned. "Now, I want you to picture Cell, hurting me, or your mother, or anyone else you care about."

"But why?"

Gohan knew better than to talk back, but in all honesty he was sick of people trying to coax his fury out of him. It had been happening since he was so very young, and that frustration had come out in the form of a sassy reply.

Surprisingly, Piccolo didn't react with anger, instead, that unseen more compassionate side, which dwelled beneath the surface even before the absorption of Kami, shone through, softening those sharp features. "Trust me Gohan, I know your probably tired of hearing this, but believe me, I wouldn't ask you to do it if I thought it wouldn't help."

Gohan's own face warmed. "Okay Mr Piccolo. I'll try."

"Good."

Piccolo watched with grim fascination as the boy he had grown to love closed his eyes, and sought to dig into that primal, feral anger lurking in his soul.

He always went through the same emotions eyeing the boy at such a time. The familiar, dark interest that he was feeling now, born out of the twisted path of life the demon once chose to follow. Then, warm pride would blossom, raising his adrenaline, and filling his heart with hope. Until finally, taking over, was a chilling fear, intertwined with intoxicating doubt, that maybe this time would be the time that the boy fully lost himself, and became a monster.

Gohans power climbed effortlessly, his brow was furrowed, and the wind that raced around him sung of his climbing rage. In a blinding flash, hair as black as night coloured a divine shade of gold. Anything tethered to the ground only by the force of gravity was instantly thrown upwards, caught in a rising stream of ki.

Piccolo's heart raced as the boy stood before him in his super Saiyan form. He more resembled his father in those fiery moments, within the crux of battle, then he did the apologetic little boy who had sauntered out the time chamber in his torn up Saiyan armour.

Taking a moment to steady himself under the intense scrutiny of those icy blue orbs, that so paradoxically froze beneath the burning anger of the super Saiyan transformation, Piccolo addressed his student with a flickering sense of fear that still felt as unwelcomed and as surprising as the first time such a feeling made itself known.

"Okay Gohan, when you're ready, perform the technique."

Somehow, the boy's fearsome expression tightened even further, and he wasted no time in focusing the necessary ki that was required for the task.

Suddenly, the brilliant golden candle that encompassed Gohan, divided itself into two, and standing defiantly under each flame was the familiar stance of a Son.

Piccolo eyed the two beings carefully, searching for any kind of flaw in the technique, as per usual, the boy's performance was spotless.

Now came the moment of truth. How long Could Gohan go before dizziness and confusion overtook him?

"How do you feel?" Piccolo managed amidst the rhythmic _whooshing_ sound assaulting the grassy landscape.

Both boy's glares seemed to intensify. "Gohan?" Piccolo asked, trying his best to mask growing concern and uneasiness.

"It's really hard." The Gohan on Piccolo's right ground out through gritted teeth.

The demon king smirked as control returned. "I never said it was going to be easy, did I?"

The other Gohan stepped forward slowly, clearly the technique was still taking its toll. "I don't feel any calmer Piccolo." Joined by the other one. "Yeah, if anything, I feel even more angry then I did before."

Piccolo's cruel grin only grew wider, and for a second, both Gohan's were sure they were standing in front of the Saiyan prince. "Well now you have someone to take that anger out on don't you?"

After sharing a brief look of mild confusion, and a pair of shrugged shoulders, without warning, both Gohan's surged forwards and Piccolo found himself raising his arms up both reflexively and defensively.

They were on him in a flash, bombarding their former teacher in a blurred flurry of punches and kicks before the panicked Namekian could even defend himself properly.

Unsurprisingly, a well-timed kick to the side of the head made it through the demon's underwhelming defences. He found himself skidding across the grass in utter disbelief, before his own rage began bubbling away. Thankfully, the two Gohan's gave him time to recover. With a sneer of utter disgust, and a grunt so venomous it could have murdered, he shook his head at the two objects of his fury.

"I didn't mean me you idiots! I meant you should be fighting each other!"

Piccolo wasn't done yet, how could the boy have been so stupid? "Why would I ask you to split into two just so you could beat the crap out of me?! In what way would that be beneficial to either of us?"

The resemblance to Goku was almost chilling as he watched one Gohan scratch his chin in thought, and the other only stared with a face so blank someone could have drawn a picture on it. "We did think it was a bit strange." The other one nodded. "Yeah, we thought maybe if our power was split in half you might have more of a chance at beating us."

Piccolo was powerless as his emerald cheeks flushed a steamy red. "I'm not trying to defeat you; I'm trying to help you better control your anger at Cell."

"We know, we just thought you might have…" The Gohan speaking looked at his copy in slight trepidation. "Ulterior motives." The copy finished.

Any previous embarrassment sharply returned to red hot rage. Piccolo had to take a few steady breaths to calm himself down. When did Gohan become as clueless as his father?

"No Gohan. I'm here to help you. After yesterday, the last thing I wanted to do was fight you again."

"But this isn't helping at all Piccolo, even now when I'm talking to you I can see him. I try to ignore it, but it's so hard, all I can think about is ripping him to pieces."

Piccolo felt the breeze shift in that eerie way that it did when the Earth decided to change its inhabitants mood. Hearing the boy say something like that was scary in its own right. And in a moment of purity, Piccolo could feel his heart break for Gohan. For a second it was as if he had never merged with Kami or Nail, it was just him and his best friend, and he could feel how much Gohan was struggling.

Piccolo wished that he had answers. In truth, he had expected the split-form to instantly relieve some of that pent up anger. That's what it was supposed to do, and if it didn't work first time, then there was a good chance it never would. And to hear that the technique had only made Gohan angrier was particularly disconcerting.

All fear of the pair before him was gone, and he approached the two boys without even the faintest flicker of concern for his well-being. Reaching out, he ruffled two sets of golden hair. Taking note of the timid sparks of chrome electricity that danced into life betwixt his fingertips.

"Try not to worry Gohan, we'll think of something, I promise."

Piccolo felt his dry lips tug upwards in a rare showing of emotion. Such an act was testament to how far the boy had driven him to change. And how different Piccolo was to the demon lord which once terrorised the planet he was now proud to call home.

It was his duty to pull Gohan through this, and he would be damned if he didn't manage it. Suddenly, he felt a surge of pride and determination take heart. He would save the boy if it was the last thing he did.

Gohan seemed somewhat confused at the gleaming emotion in his teacher's eyes. Himself and his copy briefly mirrored a look that looked something akin to sadness at the showing. Before the tiredness and fatigue of the split-form technique dragged them both hard, down into the Earth.

Two weary bodies fell to the floor in unconsciousness, before merging into one in a silent display of transparent magic.

Piccolo looked at the prone form of his best friend with a mixture of despair and determination.

The world could be such a cruel place to thrust such a burden upon someone as pure and as once-innocent as Gohan. But with the right help, and the right attitude, he knew the boy could make it through.

* * *

Evening had replaced daytime, and the alabaster gaze of the moon fell gracefully from the sky.

Five dragon balls had been obtained. Which meant only two remained. Chichi smiled truthfully for the first time in a while as she fiddled with the three-star ball in her hand.

Its smooth texture felt like that of a diamond, and it reflected the glow of the moon beautifully. It was no wonder such things carried such natural divinity, given their ultimate purpose. But she had never noticed just how magnificent the balls were before.

Maybe it was because for the first time it was her whom was collecting them, and it was her who would claim the wish for her own selfish desire.

No, it wasn't selfish, she couldn't think like that. This was for Gohan.

There was a feint rustling from the tent. Chichi and Bulma had decided to set up camp for the night after finding the fifth ball, and discovering the nearest of the two remaining to be at least a five-hour journey from where they were now.

Bulma popped her head out after tearing open the zip. Chichi could see a hairbrush in her right hand, and a cell phone in the other. "Are you sure you don't want me to call Krillin and have him pick us up? I'm sure he'd be more than willing to—"

"It's fine Bulma." The younger woman interrupted. "I really don't mind camping."

The blue-haired woman shrugged. "Suit yourself." Before disappearing off back into the tent. Chichi could hear her soft summing as she toiled through her enormous travel bag in search of something.

Chichi drowned it out. Her tired stare fell upon the stars above. The thought that her son and husband had been up amongst them, so far away from home was as wonderful as it was terrifying.

And then there was that repressed feeling. Goku had come from those very stars. Her husband was not of Earth.

Every time she looked up at night that's all she could think. It confused her, scared her, and left her in a state of utter whimsy. Goku, her husband, fell from the stars.

She smiled. He was probably up there now. Goofing around with that stupid grin, stuffing his face with some alien food, annoying all of the other dead people.

Maybe he went to visit his grandfather Gohan. She knew how guilty Goku had felt about being the one responsible for Gohan's death.

She would visit Gohan too. She had met him once before but had never had the chance to thank him.

Chichi wanted that more than anything. To visit that kind old man who had taken Goku in, and fed him and looked after him, all in the name of love. She would spend the rest of eternity thanking him if she could.

Still, there was life ahead. And Gohan and Goten gave her purpose. So to think of anything after death would be most inappropriate and unfair to them.

The forest that they had decided to spend the night was oddly beautiful. The silhouettes of the trees weren't as cruel and sharp as one might expect, instead, the trees felt fresh, and full of life, and rustled in the gentle breeze invitingly.

Chichi decided to turn in for the night. The coldness of night was creeping on and unlike Bulma, she was more-or-less unprepared for the elements.

Tomorrow, everything would be fixed.

* * *

Cell felt oddly similar to the way he had on those ten days building up to the Cell games.

When the sun next rose on Planet Earth, the full force of his brutal revenge would be realised.


	10. Chapter 10

Day 6

Gohan couldn't shake a crippling sense of foreboding from his head. Ever Since he had woken up, he'd been plagued with a strange feeling that something terrible was going to happen today.

Normally, these feelings weren't far off the mark. In fact, the last time such a thing happened, was the day of the Cell games, and that was pretty much scheduled to be the end of the world.

Although what Gohan found to be more terrifying was that his Mother had told him she was out all of yesterday, and today, which meant he would have to look after Goten.

He had noticed she was acting strange the last few days. And when he had arrived home to find a sleeping baby and a note informing him of her absence, he was a little suspicious.

The only thing missing from her room was her horrible cream-coloured handbag, which was normal for Chichi, that's all she ever took when she went anywhere. Even still though, Gohan couldn't remember the last time his Mother had left the house to pop to the shops, let alone disappear for a couple of days.

Everything bizarre seemed to be falling into place, and once more he didn't even know he had passed out the day before, but according to Piccolo, he'd collapsed during a performance of the split-form technique. Apparently, he could be separated much longer when he was in his super Saiyan state.

Piccolo was being oddly nice to Gohan, which made the pre-teen slightly worried. The two were to continue their training today but Gohan wasn't sure it was such a good idea if that meant leaving Goten by himself in the house, and he couldn't exactly take a baby along with him.

Which left a day to be spent more-or-less alone? It's not as if Goten was good company, he couldn't even form words yet, so it was rather doubtful that the chubby little thing would be interested in astronomical physics or human biology. And Gohan wouldn't even bother asking Piccolo if he'd fancy coming over and helping him take care of his younger brother.

No, today would be two steps back. At least there was nothing for Gohan to get angry at. Even with all the craziness going on inside his head, he never thought for one minute that he'd ever be any kind of threat to his little brother, which was a calming notion.

So here he was, downstairs, making breakfast for two, and feeling more alone than ever.

Goten was currently sat at the head of the table in his highchair, a napkin covering his neck and stomach, and a thin stream of drool running down his fat little cheek, as he waited expectantly for another three-course breakfast.

Gohan had never quite realised just how strange the amount of food himself, his father, and now his brother ate. Surely he didn't eat as much as Goten did when he was a baby?

Where did it all go? Some of the things he had seen his brother stuff into his mouth were nearly twice the size of his head!

"Here you go Goten." He chimed, whilst passing over a bowl of steamed rice. The baby cooed happily, and began shovelling every single grain into his mouth with the speed of a machine.

Gohan watched in horror as the empty dish was returned with not even a morsel remaining, he could even see a kind of reflection of himself at the bottom, jaded by a thick lining of saliva.

Goten burped loudly, and continued to stare at his older brother like a lost cub.

Gohan's work was far from over.

* * *

Today was the day.

Cell was positively ringing with excitement.

That old hag was going to whisk him away to Earth, and this horrible existence in Hell would be long forgotten.

Unfortunately, there was no way of telling what time it was. And Cell had absolutely no idea when exactly he was going to be picked up.

So, he stood outside that awful cave, that seemed like a distant memory now, waiting to finally wreak his revenge.

He would savour watching the spark of life leave every single eye belonging to a human, Saiyan or anything else that breathed. Then, destruction. Earth would be gone, no dragon balls, no redemption.

And after that, he realised earlier that the second place to be visited would be Namek. As soon as both sets of dragon balls were eliminated, no one could alter his work.

It disgusted him to think that anyone could be so shallow as to want to change the art of a genius anyway.

In truth, most of the universe disgusted Cell, and he would thoroughly enjoy plunging it into darkness, before destroying existence completely. That was the ultimate purpose.

If only that sour-faced old crone would hurry up.

* * *

Gods could get ill?

Goku never knew.

As it turned out, King Kai had come down with something.

Yesterday, after watching Gohan and Piccolo attempt to master the split-form technique for a while, Goku had returned to his own training, only later to find his companion completely bedridden. King Kai had spent all today in bed, with Bubbles at his side and an ever-present steaming pot of tea on top of his wardrobe.

Goku didn't even know why King Kai had a wardrobe, he only ever wore the same thing. Mind you, that wasn't something the Saiyan was unfamiliar with.

It didn't make sense; how could a dead god succumb to something like a virus? Things such as that challenged Goku's whole perception of Gods. They certainly weren't as omnipotent as everyone believed they were, that's for sure.

In all honesty, Goku felt sorry for King Kai. He seemed so weak in his current state. The skin below his nose was fiery red, and his voice was bunged up so badly it made the god hard to understand when he spoke. Not to mention the random coughing fits. Still, at least he had Bubbles by his side. Goku knew the monkey was far more important to King Kai than he let on.

It was a shame, Goku really wanted to watch Gohan train again today, despite what he and Piccolo were saying, the Saiyan thought that they might be onto something with that split-form technique.

Still, maybe King Kai would get better soon, there was always tomorrow after all.

* * *

One ball to go.

It had been a very productive morning so far. After waking up at quite a ridiculously early hour of the day, and driving for five hours straight, the sixth dragon ball felt like the spherical embodiment of a miracle.

And now, the last was in reach. According to the car's state-of-the-art computer system, which Bulma had somehow connected to the dragon radar, they were only thirty miles from the final ball.

Soon Shenron would be summoned, and Gohan could go back to normal.

"So Chichi." Bulma suddenly stated from behind the wheel. "I think I know what you're going to ask the dragon."

The Ox-princess did her best to sound disinterested. "Oh?"

"You're going to ask him to get Goku back again?"

Chichi felt like being sick. And seemingly she made her feelings known without saying anything, as Bulma suddenly looked extremely apologetic. "I mean it was just a guess."

"It's fine Bulma. But no, it's not that. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't spend the rest of the trip trying to guess what it is."

The older of the women shrugged her shoulders, and focused her tired eyes on the sky in front. "Suit yourself, but you owe me bigtime for this."

"I know Bulma, thank you."

There was a silence until Chichi fiddled through her handbag. She remembered when Goku had bought her that old thing. Only someone so pure would pick something so hideously bright. If she remembered correctly, it was one of only two gifts Goku had ever given her. To be honest, he was never very good at buying people presents.

The bag was strange, in a way it felt as white and as divine as Goku was, but at the same time looked so ancient and withered, sometimes she wondered if Goku would still look the same in twenty years, and if he would even recognise her.

After her husband died, and refused to come back, Chichi had spent a year living with that decision. And every day her soul was chipped away and replaced with something different, something new. Every day spent without Goku was a new life, and soon she would be a changed person. One who wasn't graced with the light and kindness emitted from that silly old lug who fell from the stars.

Such thoughts were terrifying. But then, as always, Chichi's mind travelled to her two sons. Her own little lights. Gifts from Goku which he had left behind to save her soul.

Chichi had to do this. She had to save Gohan, she couldn't let another light fall to darkness.

"Step on it Bulma, we haven't got a second to lose."

The green haired woman seemed to take heart in her friend's sudden outburst.

"You're the boss!"

The slick, furnished red air car buzzed frantically as its driver upped the speed with a renewed sense of vigour. In a flash, it shot away with dizzying levels of speed, leaving only a forgotten pocket of wind, and the echoing shouts of exhilaration from two women set on an unshakable mission in its wake.

* * *

If Goten wasn't eating, crying, or relieving his bowels or bladder, or any of the three at once, he was sleeping. And thankfully for Gohan, the not-even-one-year-old was currently engaging in the latter.

Which left a very troubled mind completely alone to reflect on its own insanity.

Gohan found himself in his room, sitting on his bed, hands on knees, waiting for something to happen in silence. Looking like some lost soul posing for a formal school photograph.

Piccolo was disappointed when he heard the news that he'd be without a student today, although he did his best to hide such emotion, Gohan knew his mentor was upset. Furthermore, the Namek shared in Gohan's suspicions when he was informed of Chichi's whereabouts.

The whole thing made little sense. Gohan was starting to have doubts. Had he driven his Mother away? Was she with another man? If she was Kami help him he would…

No, he was being selfish. She must have left because she needed a break from looking after him and Goten. That had to be it.

The room seemed to thrum briskly.

Why had he failed again? Why did he succeed so easily in driving people away? All those weird and wonderful people, who were all so different and spectacularly unique, whom Goku had spent his life effortlessly bringing together with his infectious kindness, why was Gohan pushing all of them away from himself?

Several books came loose from their shelf and crashed to the floor with a supressed thudding noise.

No, he couldn't think like this, not again. There was one person to blame, one person who had dented their lives, one person who had to pay.

A lone bolt of chaotic energy danced into life for the briefest of moments.

Cell was dead, and he was still winning. He had infected Gohan's mind and was slowly tearing away his sanity like he had torn the Son family apart, like he had torn humanity apart for those ten days.

There was a distinct cracking noise, until finally, the lightbulb which sat upon the ceiling of Gohan's room shattered completely, and the fragmented remnants came falling to the ground, smashing into the carpet with a thousand different musical sounds.

Cell couldn't win. But Gohan was so angry, and that voice, it was growing louder with every second. Every distant hiss, every feint whisper, every dark truth, it was all fuelling Gohan's rage. His head was spinning, he had the world's worst migraine and he couldn't even feel it anymore.

The Saiyan inside, had to be freed, had to be released from its shackles.

Golden light spilled forth and painted the walls with a pulsating, dulled glow.

Gohan's bed was shaking violently.

Cell had to pay.

Something came loose from underneath the…

That box. Gohan hadn't looked at it in years.

It was dusty, one foot-by-two and smelt of sweat and fear.

Such a thing was Long forgotten, but ripe with a hundred different memories which were flooding mercilessly through every nook-and-cranny of Gohan's mind.

It made his spine tingle, his throat run dry, and the hairs on his neck stand on end all at once. He felt more calm. Yet that voice was singing. Somehow it had quelled its rage, and he thought he knew why.

Gohan braced himself, dampening the storm of emotions running rabid through his thoughts. Never had the two sides at war in his mind been so openly conflicted upon a subject. The box might as well have been black and white.

His arm moved amidst the inner battle at play. He felt the rush of blood in his head, and the surface of his heart barraging the prison of its ribcage.

The sound of his nails finding purchase before opening two stalwart flaps was tantalising. The light found its contents for the first time in years. It still looked the same, there were no signs of aging. Saiyan armour matched its wearers in that regard.

Gohan found his body responding to thoughts that weren't fully rational. In a second he was naked, the next, dressed head-to-toe in the skin-tight blue material that served as the Saiyan under-suit.

His breathing was ragged as he slipped the chest-piece on over his head and marvelled at how it still fit so perfectly. Vegeta had informed them of the suits expansion technology back on Namek, but Gohan never fully registered the prince's words properly until now.

Finally, the boots. Something about their pointed tips served as a grim symbol of the ferociousness and violence that bloomed in their wearers for generations.

In a dark, awful way, Gohan felt complete. He scanned himself from top-to-bottom in his mirror, taking note of the bags under his eyes, and how his shaggy hair now fell at more jagged angles, looking like a row of snarling teeth atop his head.

Gohan needed someone to fight. He hadn't felt like this in so long. Goten couldn't be left by himself, could he?

Maybe if he increased his ki enough, Vegeta or Piccolo would come to them. He had to do it outside.

Gohan rushed to his brother's room with a self-proclaimed sense of urgency. Goten was snoring loudly. For once in his life, the little baby was asleep just when his older brother needed him to be.

"Stay here Goten, big brother will be just outside okay?"

Gohan didn't even bother with the door, instead leaping from the window and crashing into the grass outside.

It was cold out.

Suddenly that forgotten sense of foreboding was back.

Gohan swallowed hard, and stiffened his body. Never had anything he done felt so wrong, but never had he been more excited by anything in his life.

* * *

"You're late."

"I'm a fortune teller, I'm never late. Now hop in." The old bag, clad once again in her impossibly black shroud and hat motioned to the enormous washing hamper to her right.

"Well? It doesn't bite."

Cell grimaced as he climbed inside, the smell of old women was repugnant even to an android. Still, it would all be worth it soon.

"So you're a fortune teller, are you?" Cell's voice was muffled under the various black garments now covering his form. He felt the hamper rise into the air and hover in weightlessness.

"Among other things, yes."

The hamper moved softly above the ground, trailing the woman's voice as she spoke. "And why are you helping me get back at the Earth?"

"I've seen the future, and let's just say I have a very strong sense of right and wrong."

"Interesting." The android chimed.

"That's enough questions for now. You don't want King Yemma to hear you under there, do you?"

"King Yemma?" Cell did his very best to sound unperturbed by the mention of the lord of the afterlife's name, but judging by the feint snicker he could hear to his left, the old woman had sensed every bit of his fear.

"Yes, you don't want to upset the king, he could send you down to the lower levels of Hell if he catches you in there."

Cell found himself laughing under the mountain of black. "And what if he finds you? Will you be sent down with me?"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. I don't know who may or may not be hiding in my unmentionables do I? And who do you think he's gonna believe should it come to it, a poor, frail old woman, or a big ugly thing like you?"

The old woman took the silence as a sign of her victory. "So keep quiet in there."

Cell's rosy cheeks nearly coloured his surroundings a lighter shade of black. "I'm not ugly."

* * *

There it was. Gleaming beneath the sands of a lost desert. The seven-star ball. It had to be fate.

Chichi brushed the building sweat from her forehead as she held the artefact aloft.

"Chichi we did it! We found all the dragon balls!"

The two long-time friends embraced vigorously beneath the beating sun.

"I'll go get the rest of them and we can finally summon Shenron."

Chichi smiled as she felt her eyes watering. "That sounds like a good idea."

Bulma hopped into the aircar and produced a large brown sack from beneath the passenger's seat. "There we are." She cooed before throwing the other remaining balls to the unforgiving sands.

This was it. This was Chichi's moment of redemption. This was the day the Son family's new life would truly begin.

She barely even noticed Bulma's archaic words which sounded foreign coming from her normally informal dialect. Only the blackening of the sky shook the Ox-princess from her waking dream. Then, reality came crashing back in the surreal form of a dragon.

An endless emerald stream of scaled skin rushed forth from the seven balls and sought to touch the darkened ceiling of the world, before twisting sharply in various directions, until there was a maze of shimmering green eclipsing the sky.

At what appeared to be the front of the beast, Shenron's enormous face, plastered with its usual blank, yet terrifying expression, hung rhythmically in the air, swaying gently with his unending body.

His pupiless red eyes fell squarely on the two women before him. Before his rudimentary, shattering voice quaked the planet in its stead. "You have summoned me, now speak your two wishes and I will fulfil them."

Bulma looked at the dragon with a familiarness that Chichi herself wished she possessed. "Go on, just ask him whatever it is you want."

Chichi steeled herself. Purposefully retelling her mind of why she was here in the first place. With a look of pure determination, she nodded at Bulma, before turning her focused attention to the dragon of legend.

"Shenron, my wish is for Gohan to stop blaming himself for what happened during the Cell games, and to return to the way he was before any of the news about the androids ever arrived."

Chichi felt her heart stop as for the first time she had spoken her true desires out loud, and it felt oddly liberating.

Shenron's unwavering expression remained as the great dragon appeared to be considering what had been said. His ruby eyes glowed a brighter shade briefly before he spoke once more.

"That wish cannot be granted. Interfering in free will is beyond myself, and anyone's power. You must think of another wish."

And with that, the world fell silent for the Ox princess.

"Chichi, Chichi? I'm sorry, is there nothing else you want to ask him?"

A phantom hand fell into the confines of a sickly white bag. Searching hopelessly for something to ease the spreading pain. Lifeless fingers landed upon something hard, wooden and square shaped.

Chichi held the tiny box out in front of her, ignoring the dragon's heated gaze, and the growing uneasiness from her oldest friend. She flipped the thing open effortlessly and marvelled at the deep aquamarine pendent that sat perfectly in its indent.

She had lost full concentration. "Oh why can't everyone on this damned planet be more like my Gohan?"

"Chichi no!"

Shenron's eyes coloured a lighter shade of red once again. "Your wish is granted."

And then, to the Ox-princess and the heir to Capsule Corperation, everything went black.


	11. Chapter 11

Gohan had been practically shaking with the unignorable urge to punch something that even vaguely reminded him of Cell. He was standing outside the Son house alone, underneath the midday sky, and as the minutes dragged on, which felt like hours, the angered young Saiyan was growing more and more restless.

He had been raising his ki to the limits of his super Saiyan form, and still there was no sign of anyone showing up. The sky was as calm and as blue as any other day, and it was driving Gohan insane.

Every so often, a tree would rustle, or one of the many various moths or butterflies fluttering harmlessly through the noon air, would buzz into close-proximity, further adding to the pre-teen's ramping paranoia. Until just as an extremely reckless decision was about to be made, to abandon a sleeping Goten, and speed off into the direction of West city, or the lookout, something terribly strange happened.

The whole sky turned an unnatural shade of black.

Which could only mean one thing…

Someone was using the dragon balls.

Gohan leapt into the air without a moment's hesitation. The whole world was in peril if someone with bad intentions had summoned Shenron.

The shire power of the Super Saiyan aura was enough to keep the hurtling winds from barraging his eyes as he sped off in the direction of the lookout. As an afterthought, a voice from within that sounded eerily like Goku was screaming to not leave Goten alone in the house.

Gohan shrugged it off, he was beyond listening to reason at this point. All that mattered was finding out who was using the dragon balls, and stopping them if it came to it.

In a strange way, he was excited, and beneath that the simmering rage was still there. For should anyone be trying to threaten the peace on Earth, then Gohan would make them suffer dearly.

He could sense below the unrest of the ki belonging to all of Earths inhabitants. Not even a year had passed since the Cell games, and already the citizens of the planet were being forced into fear and pandemonium by forces they couldn't begin to control.

Gohan clenched his fist so tightly he nearly drew blood.

The lookout was nearly in sight. The impossibly tall tower belonging to Korin was harder to spot in the unwavering darkness. But Gohan could see one of his favourite places on Earth even through the veiling of mist that always clung to the bottom.

Sensing, he detected Piccolo, and Dende, and Popo, and beneath them, Korin and Yajirobe.

First, he would get Piccolo, then they would see if they could sense anyone with malice nearby, and if so, get to that person as quickly as possible. What Gohan would have given to have learned the instant transmission technique.

He could practically taste the uneasiness in the guardian of Earth's ki. And just as expected, the little Namekian was first to rush out and greet Gohan as he finally arrived atop the lookout.

Behind him, the stoic form of Piccolo marched out from the temple's chambers in agitation. Gohan was about to voice his plan when something else out of the ordinary happened.

The two Namekians were suddenly enveloped in shimmering golden tendrils, which clung to the outlines of their bodies. Beneath the light, Gohan could make out the silhouettes of his two friends clutching their ears in what seemed like agony. Until after several more seconds, of which Gohan was utterly too shocked to move, their forms began to twist and reshape.

Dende grew somewhat, and Piccolo was shrinking rapidly beneath the strange magic. His rounded head suddenly spurted dozens of clustered spikes, and the two antennae which betrayed his race disappeared from the changing form completely.

The strange magic allowed no noise but it was obvious to Gohan that Dende and Piccolo were screaming. He could only watch on in horror as his two childhood friends changed further and further until oddly, the pair looked almost identical.

Gohan barely even recognised the sky turning back to its cheerful blue colour, as the golden light which had appeared in the blinking of an eye dispersed into a million tiny specs, before vanishing from the Earth completely.

The sight that now lay unconscious, sprawled out upon the white tiles of the lookout was a sickening one.

Gohan felt the contents of his stomach threaten to burst out, and his heart drop as what was in front of him was being fully processed.

With a hand over his mouth, he stood, completely transfixed, before him were two copies of himself.

* * *

The damp smell that seemed completely inescapable mixed with the scent of relief. Cell and the old woman had made it through King Yemma's palace completely undetected.

The only cause for concern was when the android could hear his acquaintance speaking to one of those annoying office demons in hushed tones. It was hard to make out, but it sounded as though the old woman was in cahoots with the majority of Yemma's staff, but not the king himself. And that her toing and froing from different dimensions wasn't exactly condoned by the forces in charge of such things.

Cell was so excited he didn't even mind listening to the old hag drone on about how the special laundry shop they were heading for was the only place in the universe that could suitably wash clothes as black as hers.

They were on Earth, and the android was still trying to regain his ki sensing wits. There was no need for such an ability in death as nobody around had a life-force to speak of.

It was funny really, Cell was so anxious to meet Son Gohan for the second time, that the little Saiyan's ki was the only one he could register.

"Okay, I think this will do, you can leave now." The woman suddenly croaked in a disinterested tone.

Cell found his body reacting with such excitement he must have looked like an earthling child. With practically a yelp of glee, he burst forth from beneath the confines of the hamper and set his eyes on the burning star high in the sky above Earth for the first time in nearly a year. Briefly, such a picture was so profoundly pleasing and refreshing, that the android almost considered not blowing up the planet.

In the corner of his vision, Cell could make out the form of his salvation hovering away, before he outstretched a hand and grasped a shoulder. "Before you go, I never even asked you your name?"

The old crone smiled that wicked toothy grin Cell had grown to familiarise. "Baba." She finally spoke, in a tantalising voice, and suddenly the word saturated Cell's memory banks and left his mind and tongue clutching at something just beyond reach. He couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but there was something about that name he knew he should remember.

It didn't matter. Such things were trivial in the face of what was to come.

* * *

Gohan felt awful, in a blinding hurry he had left two crumpled heaps that resembled himself on the floor of the lookout. Now, the panicked half-Saiyan was steaming through the baking hot heat of noon, armed with a terrified sense of urgency, and a deep desire to protect his little brother.

Gohan had to go home to check on Goten. Someone was messing with the planet, and seemingly him directly, which meant that everyone he knew was in danger. The Saiyan's priority was to ensure everyone's safety, then he would find out who was responsible for this strangest of acts.

As he approached the Son house with frantic speed, Gohan extended his senses and searched for the ki of his sleeping brother. To his complete shock and dismay, the only feeling that was in range, was his own ki. More worryingly was that ever since the dragon had gone, the only Ki Gohan could feel, was his own.

For the second time that day, Gohan neglected to use the front door, again opting for the more direct entry of the window. He wasted no time in flying straight into Goten's room.

This time, Gohan _was_ sick.

Underneath the white covers of the crib he had had helped build for his baby brother, was another copy of himself.

Gohan could feel his anger boiling, he regained himself along with his stomach, and made for the window a third time.

Then, something filled the Saiyan with the deepest dread, fear, hatred and fury. Someone was heading for the Son house. A ki that was so easily recognisable, and left an even more bitter aftertaste in Gohan's mouth than the vomit he had just regurgitated did.

This couldn't be happening. None of this could be real.

Gohan, who had been in his super Saiyan form for what seemed like hours, climbed effortlessly to the next tier of power, somehow in an even more intense state of emotion than the first time he had achieved the form.

* * *

Cell didn't spare a thought for anything other than heading straight for the Son house. He could feel the boy there, his power was as deeply exhilarating as the android remembered it being. What was strange was that the ki of the rest of the world felt oddly…fuzzy.

Like something was blanketing Earth's life-force.

Suddenly, a thought came to pass. Maybe the boy had lost it, maybe he had been so ashamed with himself and aggrieved at losing his dear old father, that his mind had finally snapped, and the little devil had done almost all of Cell's work for him, and murdered every other being on the planet.

Oh this was all too good to be true. The android stifled pinching himself, for something as wonderful as this could surely only take stage in a dream?

Then, in a flash that had Cell covering his eyes instinctively, the boy's power leapt even higher, rocketing to the terrifying levels he had displayed during the Cell games.

The android felt his blood pumping, the first real fight in nearly a year, and it was with the person he hated most.

Finally, Cell hung in the sky, arms folded, looking down at Son Gohan, who appeared to be less than happy to see him.

"Don't I get a hello?" The android called with a slight chuckle.

Savouring every second, he sunk to the ground, his feet which more resembled hoofs met the grass with that ghastly creaking sound.

"Still the silent type eh?" He mocked. "You certainly weren't this quiet when you were screaming at the top of your lungs on the day your father died. Do you remember?"

The boy's fists clenched and unclenched by his sides chaotically, and he was visibly covered in sweat.

Cell let the words hang in the air before he closed his eyes with a satisfied grin and took in a dramatized inhale of the noon air. "I've been waiting a long time for this Son Gohan."

"What have you done to my brother?" Suddenly the android was shaken from his pleasurable thoughts as the voice of his tormentor invaded his ears and his mind for the first time since the Cell games. It was still as unbearably throaty as he remembered it, and so irresistibly innocent for a demon. Cell laughed. A spiteful laugh, that seemed to intensify the burning anger on the boy's face.

"You have a brother now? How wonderful!"

The android couldn't contain himself as he felt his body bend in two at the hilarity of the situation.

Gohan was growing more and more uneasy. "Don't play stupid with me Cell, you've already used the dragon balls haven't you, what do you want here?"

Suddenly, the android ceased his incessant laughter, only replacing it with an equally detestable smirk. "The dragon balls? No, such tools are for cowards. I had inside help you see, someone smuggled me back into this plain of existence, and let me tell you it feels good to be back."

This wasn't making sense. Cell had to be bluffing, he just had to be. If it wasn't him that used the dragon balls, then who was it, and why use it to turn people into Gohan?

Cell suddenly turned his back upon the child. But Gohan could still feel the ugly grin on the android's face, even through his skull. "When I'm done here child, I'm going to destroy every last patch of dirt on this misbegotten planet. Starting with that mountain." The android gestured to the looming form of fire mountain, glaring down at the forests below.

Gohan's mind was beginning to feel dizzy, as his consciousness felt strangely…large.

The Saiyan's head was alight with images that seemed oddly reminiscent of memories. Various clips of people waking up in endless different places throughout the Earth, only strangely from a first person view bombarded Gohan's brain.

He could sense ki all of a sudden, only it still felt like his own.

Cell seemingly had felt the same disturbance, as the android was facing Gohan again, and for the first time since arriving, the revived terror or Earth didn't look quite as sure of himself.

"What is that I can sense? What's going on boy?"

"I don't know." Gohan answered honestly.

Both heads present quickly turned as something stirred from within the Son house.

Cell felt like the world had turned to darkness as, much like Gohan, a figure dressed head to toe in Saiyan armour appeared from behind the door. In fact, the figure was identical to Gohan in every way, from the muscular physique, to the squared jaw, to the big round eyes, everything was the same, save for the only real difference that the copie's hair and eyes resembled what Cell realised Gohan must have looked like when he wasn't in either of his super Saiyan forms.

Gohan eyed his double curiously as the newcomer made his way somewhat reluctantly over to the pair. Electing to stand directly next to the original Gohan, the two shared a worried glance before returning their stare to the taken aback form of Cell.

"What is this? Are you mocking me Gohan?"

The half Saiyan was about to reply when he could feel what seemed like thousands of ki signatures gaining more and more speed and honing in on their location.

Something clicked as Gohan realised that someone had used the dragon balls to turn everyone on the planet into himself, which was _the_ strangest thing that had ever happened to Gohan, and that was saying a lot considering the life he had lead. Just why on Earth would anyone do that? And who? It all felt very surreal. And suddenly that thought Gohan had about a strange and a sad version of himself existing, seemed extremely plausible.

The Saiyan couldn't argue with the timing, that was for sure. How did someone know about the arrival of Cell? And surely there were better ways to prepare than this?

For now, it didn't matter. What was important was that six billion Gohans now existed on the planet, and the only ki other than their own they could sense, was the ki of Cell. Which meant that they were going to need more room.

The double mirrored Gohan's stern expression. "Come on, if we're going to fight, let's not do it here."

Cell huffed. "Fine, but don't think you can keep running forever boy, I don't know what's going on here but mark my words you're going to die today."

The pair shot off into the sky without another breath, leaving the empty Son house behind.

After a few minutes of silent flying, the trio landed upon a wasteland which was hauntingly similar to the arena of the Cell games.

Cell smirked cruelly at the choice. "I would have thought this place would bring back bad memories for you. A very brave decision for a child. "

Gohan returned the gesture, all the while tapping into his boundless anger at the person that stood before him.

"This is like the place where I spent a day beating you to within an inch of your life, I would have thought it was worse for you."

Cell's face twisted into an expression of shock at the words, and both Gohan's chuckled mockingly.

"You won't be laughing when I'm through with you, boy."

"And him?" Gohan asked in a tantalising tone

Cell merely snorted. "I don't know why there's two of you, but all it means is there's more of you to torture."

Gohan pointed to the sky suddenly, Cell had to shield his eyes as he strained to make out the all too familiar silhouette that hung in the sky challengingly. "And what about him?"

"Or him?" The other Gohan added.

Cell couldn't believe his eyes as the sky grew more and more saturated with the same shape. There was an endless stream of Gohans pouring in above them and eventually landing all around until the android found himself completely surrounded. By the end there were so many that the Gohans who were still arriving were forced to stay in the air as there simply wasn't room for them to stand within a mile of the android.

Soon, Cell found himself literally imprisoned within a dome made up of his own worst nightmare. The android simply stood there, a dumbfounded expression plastered on his face as he tried to form words that just wouldn't come out.

Gohan couldn't believe this was happening, everything seemed to be moving so fast. One minute, the world was going to be completely devastated, the next some genius had wished for this, it had to be his father, only he could have made this happen. Finally, Gohan could get rid of all his horrible aggression that had slowly been inflating every day since that moment nearly a year ago. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

Still, as the Saiyan watched on at the android, and took in the expression on his face, something beneath all the rage, a voice of reason, was flooding his head with the memories of what he had done.

How Gohan had got carried away, how he had taken sadistic pleasure in hurting Cell, only for his actions to cost Goku his life.

Gohan sighed. In a flash, he let his hair return to its shaggy black state as he relieved his body of its power.

Cell watched anxiously. "I suppose you think this is over don't you Gohan?" The android challenged.

"Cell come on, you can't possibly hope to win. I'm giving you a chance, against my better judgement, to just leave this place."

"W-what?"

"I remember when my father told me that he had given Freiza a chance to escape, to leave Namek and never come back, even after all the horrible, despicable things he had done. And until now I had never understood why."

Gohan looked at the ground, seemingly ashamed of himself. "I'm not going to hurt you, so long as you promise not to take anyone else's life, and to never bother Earth again."

Even as more and more half-Saiyans continued to appear, everything was completely silent. Until the hearty laugh of Cell filled the air and echoed from one Gohan to another.

The original Gohan, now completely unrecognisable amidst the crowd, couldn't believe what he was hearing. Goku said that Freiza had had a similar reaction when hearing the same words, but it didn't make it any less awful.

"You really think this changes anything? You really think you've won?!"

Cell continued to cackle. And Gohan felt that unrelenting anger beginning to rise once more.

"I'm Cell" He roared. "I'm perfect!"

"And I'm always one step ahead."

Suddenly, the android started to swell. And a grim realisation was settling in amidst the growing number of Gohan's swarmed all around.

No one said a word as all began to charge.

Cell raised a finger and waggled it mockingly. "uh uh uh, you know the score, touch me, and I'll explode."

This couldn't be happening again.

"In thirty seconds, you, and all of your ridiculous clones will be gone, as well as this pitiful planet, and I will be reborn, even stronger than before. How does that make you feel Gohan? Do you feel angry? Humiliated? Hopeless?"

Cell let out another laugh, only this time it was unnaturally deep due to his swelling size, all of his facial features were beginning to bulge, until the android looked like an enormous green pufferfish.

Gohan couldn't comprehend this. First, his anger let him down, he was foolish and ahead of himself, and it cost him the one that mattered most. This time he was soft, cautious, and even had an army to back him up, and Cell had still won.

Kami he felt so incredibly angry again. There was golden light bursting forth from every single Gohan around, but he knew it wouldn't matter, they would all be killed, nothing could stop that explosion.

"No Goku to save you with his instant transmission this time, boy. I'd say you have about fifteen seconds left."

If only he had simply engaged Cell on sight. He probably could have destroyed him by now with the help of the other Gohan. Mind you, with being able to explode and rebuild himself, Cell was pretty much indestructible.

"Ten seconds."

The worst part was, Gohan didn't know if he would have done much differently had he had yet another chance.

"Five seconds Son Gohan."

Had he learnt anything? Even now all he could think about was making Cell suffer in some of the most brutal ways possible.

With his dying breath, Gohan felt more Saiyan than human, which weirdly, he always knew would happen.

" 3, 2, 1, say hello to Goku for me?"


	12. Chapter 12

_Hello everyone!_

 _I just wanted to make a few things clear before the next chapter. First, what happens next is pretty much the result of an extremely strange dream I had, and as you'll find out, I say extremely strange with absolutely no exaggeration. (Yes I know how weird it is and I'm saying this in advance.)_

 _Secondly, I would just like to point out that I realise this story makes little-to-no sense and I can only apologise, I've never properly attempted to write anything out of leisure before, and I realise this is pretty evident in the quality of the writing._

 _Thirdly, I feel it necessary to point out that this story is something I dedicate maybe an hour or two for each chapter, and with the gaps in between each one, trying to understand what my previous ideas were, and the direction I was heading in at the time of writing previous parts is difficult. Though I'm not trying to make excuses for the story's lack of quality (I know full well that if I dedicated more time to this project the quality of writing would not dramatically improve) I do feel it's appropriate to apologise for any gaps in logic or plot holes that may manifest as a result of this. I think it's fairly obvious to any readers that writing is not something I'm particularly gifted in at all. This story was literally written to express an incredibly strange dream I had, perhaps from watching a tad too much dbza before bed! Personally I can't wait for TFS to reach the Cell games, and am very excited to see what they do with Gohan's transformation into ssj2, I can only imagine it will be particularly painful for cell. (Who has been absolutely hilarious from imperfect to perfect form)_

 _Lastly, as I previously stated, everything that has happened in this story so far has all been a build up to this moment, and I think the plot displays a real lack of creativity if I'm completely honest in how we arrived here. So again I apologise, and want to stress that I am in no way making excuses, at the end of the day, it's me who is writing this, and it's me who has fashioned a rather questionable storyline and representation of the characters involved. I realise how rushed everything has seemed to get to where we are now in the story, particularly in the past few chapters._

 _Also, I would just like to say thankyou to anyone who has bothered to read this far, I wouldn't blame anyone for giving up after reading the first couple of lines of the first chapter, let alone the eleventh, so thank you! And hopefully, enjoy. (somehow)_

* * *

The world was about to end, and all Son Gohan could think about was in which order he would break every piece of Cell's body, if he had been given the chance to do such a thing again that was.

He didn't need to observe the countless faces of all the cloned versions of himself to realise that they were thinking something similar. They were all _him_ after all, and in a strange way, he felt as though they belonged within his conscience.

It may have seemed like a time to reside in sentimentality, but the Saiyan in Gohan was roaring. That disobedient voice had transformed from an unwelcome horror, to oddly, an uncontested, but not unpleasant symbol of defeat. In his life's last moment, the half-breed finally accepted what had been painfully obvious for a while, it would take a century's worth of violence to completely sate the shackled beast whom reluctantly roamed within his mind.

Fate was cruel. Before him, the bulging, hideous form of the very entity which had plagued Gohan with what seemed like all the problems in his life, a physical manifestation of the demons he faced every day, and all around, was an army, ready to extract the full sadistic revenge that would serve as an ultimate salvation for the young Saiyan. Only, there was no time, in around fifteen seconds, Cell would explode, and take everything with him, only leaving the android himself as someone to live to tell the tale.

Gohan did what he always did in a life-threatening situation, he closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and tried to think of his father. Normally, the resulting vision would be a picture of characteristic exuberance. Goku, in all his purity, holding an even younger Gohan aloft in his welcoming arms, the pair would be smiling ear-to-ear, and not a care nor whisper would dare to disturb the moment. Except this time, all Gohan could picture was pretty much what was in front of him. Cell stood tall, no longer in his bulking form, however, beside him, splattered out on the endless black floor was the desecrated bodies of Gohan's closest family and friends, his mother, his father, Piccolo, Krillin, all of them, all dead. The android smirked as he eyed their corpses one-by-one with the cruellest satisfaction.

Gohan decided at that moment that he would probably bludgeon Cell's face until it was nothing but a bloodied hole before starting on anywhere else on the android's body.

Silently, the walls that enclosed what was referred to as the Saiyan side were voluntarily being knocked down. The seconds ticked on and Gohan held the image of his fallen loved ones in his head.

"Ten seconds." Cell's grotesque voice boomed, but the Saiyan could barely hear it.

Gohan licked his lips in unrestrained delight as his noiseless transformation neared completion. Soon he would give in to the other half of his life he had so neglected all this time. Judging by the change in Ki he could still sense so easily despite his frantic state, the others were also undergoing the same process, even as they continued to pour in from all directions even now.

"Five seconds Son Gohan." The android taunted from the heart of the growing mass.

Gohan would have sold his soul to change what was happening, it only required one, tiny alteration for this to be the most important, and most profoundly fulfilling moment in the young Saiyan's life. If Cell wasn't about to blow everything up, then after what Gohan would do to the monster, there wouldn't be a violent bone left in his body.

Then, the change was complete. Gohan felt exactly like he did that day nearly a year ago. The ascension to his new super Saiyan form was seamless this time. All around him, golden light and chaotic electricity danced into life, spawned from the endless army that sought to mirror their commander.

To Cell, the quite beautiful, yet devastating outpouring of light and power must have seemed like a scare tactic, but if it did, the android didn't show it. Quite the opposite, he seemed to take some sadistic satisfaction in watching the new display of anger and ki.

Those last few seconds felt like ecstasy for the now released Saiyan. It was so darkly wonderful and liberating to feel that power and to break the bonds of moral restraint once again. If Gohan was gonna die now, at least he would die happy. He would die as the monster he had spent the last year trying to hide from, the monster that had ultimately defeated him, and it felt wonderful.

As the briefest of afterthoughts, he considered how deeply naïve and stupid it was to ever trust Cell to just leave the planet, he should have rushed him there and then and destroyed the android before the last resort which was now his doom was even considered.

"3."

Of course, if the bomb didn't exist, then Gohan would take his time with Cell.

"2."

He'd savour every moment of agony the android would be put through.

"1."

It would take a year to make everything right again using the dragon balls, and Gohan could spend that whole time squeezing every last inch of his anger out.

"Say hello to Goku for me?"

Gohan was so unafraid of death at this point that he didn't even brace, not even instinctively.

Which made the next few seconds that much sweeter.

Cell's twisted face dropped from the utmost confidence, to a picture of frenzied panic. Before the android could even comprehend the failure of the explosive device hidden within his anatomy, he had started shrinking and shrivelling, until he found himself barely the height of Gohan, though disgustingly, flaps of excess skin which had swollen to unnatural sizes due to the nature of the bomb, was left slack and useless as it dangled lifelessly from arms and legs alike.

Somehow, the creature looked even more hideous than before.

Cell's mind was desperate. Why hadn't the bomb worked? hurriedly, he searched his memory banks, he toiled through every last file, every last program, every last thought and memory Dr Gero had wired into his greatest creation, in search of some kind of help or answer…or escape.

He found nothing.

Until. The android replayed the memory of when one of his brethren, number sixteen had forcefully attached himself to Cell's back, with the hope of destroying both of them in one fell swoop. Only the act of heroism never worked, because the bomb had been removed.

Then, it hit Cell like a slap in the face. His bomb hadn't been removed, but he had already used it. That's how he became stronger in the first place. The Saiyan cells woven into Gero's design had forced his perfect body to new heights of power, thanks to suffering the nearest of near death experiences. And he was allowed to return, Son Goku was at last dead, fulfilling the doctor's ultimate intention. And the only person who remained to stop him was the boy, Gohan.

Gohan.

Cell had never seen one person look so rabidly furious in all his life, let alone the two or three million who were surrounding him now. A sudden, primal wave of fear overcame the android and he realised that he had now more-or-less walked into his own personal nightmare.

Using every ounce of speed he could in his deformed body, the entrapped terror of Earth made for the skies, only to find an endless wall in his way.

The icy look of hatred now magnified upon him was enough to give the android the answer he required, there was no getting through.

None of the Gohan's were yet to move as Cell floated down to the ground in hopelessness. Scanning in every direction, he found that not a single chink nor breach lay in the dome of people surrounding him. Finally, the android contemplated using his own ki to blow up the Earth, but quickly, and devastatingly, it become painfully obvious that in his malformed state, he simply didn't possess the power to do much but fly. That bomb was meant to be an absolute last resort, and Dr Gero failed to formulate a contingency plan for his contingency plan.

Gohan couldn't believe it. Hell, had just become Heaven.

The Saiyan watched with glee as Cell frantically searched for an opening to no avail. He allowed the smallest of smiles to blossom upon his features as he eventually saw the android's face resign to defeat. There was no escape.

Gohan found his fist instinctively pounding his open palm as he slowly strutted forward until his form was but an arm's reach from the cowering android. His smile grew wider and transformed into a crude smirk, eventually hands proudly landed on hips whilst the Saiyan savoured the growing expression of panic on his enemy's face.

Then, a moment of realisation as all of the Saiyan's identical comrades did the same.

Cell made a futile effort to count the number of people he had both walking, and flying towards himself. Even without a certain answer it was frightfully obvious that if he were a million times stronger than Gohan, he still wouldn't have a hope in the seven hells of defeating them all.

For the first time ever, Cell had absolutely no idea what to do. Such a situation was so incredibly strange, and so incredibly terrifying that Dr Gero was right to not waste any of his time planning on how he could legislate for it arising.

Cell made a grim calculation and came to the black truth that even if he wanted to terminate his own existence now, he wouldn't be able to, and even if he could, there would be no plain of reality to escape to. The android was already dead.

Gohan dramatically waited until his army enclosed around their target, giving the android barely two feet of space between himself and any of the awaiting soldiers.

A million faces all stricken with the same tenacious grin encircled his every view. Every angle was saturated with the grim reminder of what was to come. Ragged breathing was amplified tenfold by crippling, seizing fear.

More seconds of silent torment passed and Cell wondered if Gohan would ever let this moment pass, the moment before the storm where the android was at the boy's strained mercies.

Then, a sudden flash of the memory banks resounded in Cell's frenzied mind. He saw the form of Goku standing over him, the burning crimson skies of Namek dying, providing a morbid backdrop, that in truth, was more welcomed than the sky of seething Gohans that hung above him in the real world.

He paled at the sickly, clutching hands that beat Namek's ashen floor in desperate frustration. All the while taking note of the unfaltering mask of sick pity, and entombed hatred on the victorious Saiyan's face, as he leered down at the broken form of Frieza.

It was then the android felt the fallen tyrant's thoughts as if they were his own. He lived the last remnants of Frieza's tested pride finally shattering into a thousand pieces. The crushed emperor stifled weeping, the last bastion of his crippled sense of superiority.

Then, Cell heard a voice so shrewd and distinctly detestable that he had no trouble deciphering the words as belonging to King Cold, the tyrant's father.

"To be strong Freiza, you must be ruthless. It is the mark of all great leaders. People will fear you for your words, and for your power, but that will pale in comparison to the terror they will suffer when they hear of your actions. It doesn't matter how much power you possess, the strongest are the ones who have the will to do what is necessary, no matter the cost, those are the ones who will truly live forever."

Cell shuddered at the conviction in the fallen king's words, but then, the android felt a raw surge of determination rise up through the beaten emperor, that stretched throughout his wary body but not into his bloodied face.

He marvelled at how Freiza replayed every possible situation in which the super Saiyan could be tricked into helping him regain the upper hand. Then finally, Cell watched with a strange sense of fascination as the Tyrant proceeded to use the last of his strength to beg for mercy at the feet of the legendary super Saiyan. Even without legs, Frieza still refused to give in for one second and refused to believe that the person who had beaten him so spectacularly in a test of mind, body and will, was anything other than an upstart monkey who just needed disciplining by his superiors. He was willing to sacrifice everything to kill Son Goku, even his pride.

In that moment, Cell formed a kind of respect for the deceased tyrant, and decided that he would make it through this little…hiccup, even if it meant sacrificing his own strenuous pride.

The android was sure that the boy was too angry to feel any other emotion, but even he was wrought with the mildest of surprise as Cell dropped down to his knees most suddenly. The android buried his head in the tip of the original Gohan's boot.

"Please have mercy Son Gohan. I promise to never hurt another soul."

Cell felt an uneasiness as even the slightest of changes in ki or atmosphere failed to present itself, but he decided it best he press on and delve into a touchier subject.

"Would your father really want you to be a killer? Wasn't it he who dedicated his life into preaching the merits of mercy and forgiveness?" Cell's voice broke with every syllable and he struggled to reframe from cringing as he spoke.

"I beg of you Son Gohan, spare me and carry on your father's legacy. Show me the power of love and kindness, so it might change me and mould me into a better person. All I ask is for a second chance."

The android didn't feel it appropriate to mention that he had already sullied his second chance, and was well into double figures on his list of chances at possible redemption.

Cell strained not to smirk at his display. This moment was the embodiment of why he was almighty, and everyone else was weak. The child would most likely forgive him, because that's what those fools did, they allowed their rivals chances to recuperate when they should have been striking the defining blow.

Their arrogance was their undoing, at thinking the powerful should follow a code of ethics, and that the universe was anything but the survival of the fittest, but most of all, thinking that their way was the right way, and that life should be dedicated to following a path of righteousness. Truly it was they who were the selfish ones, it was they who imposed their will on others, due to their own beliefs. The spark of hatred Cell held for the universe had ignited into a blazing blame, and there it was, the briefest flicker of movement in Son Gohan's body, he could feel it even from the golden tip of the boy's boot.

Gohan looked extremely satisfied as he watched the android beg for mercy at his feet.

Softly, he removed his foot from under Cell's head, by gently lowering it to the ground, in front of the android's grotesque face.

Cell gazed up at the boy in mild confusion, all the while still attempting to veil his true emotions of anger and self-satisfaction.

He could barely believe his ears when he heard the boy speak.

Gohan motioned down at his outstretched leg, where the golden tipped boot lay flatly on soft grass. "Kiss it, and I'll let you go." The Saiyan's resulting smirk was cruel and full of spite.

"W-what?"

"You heard me Cell. Kiss my boot and I promise I won't hurt you."

That little brat.

This was it though, this was the price to pay. Cell was at the brink of his limits. If he could just swallow this one moment, then his mission would be complete.

The android closed his eyes and attempted to cork the growing anger and hatred surging through his body. He moved his head slowly and even dared to halt his progress on a few separate occasions. Cell could feel the eyes of the boy burrowing into the back of his skull as his lips met the smooth white surface with an almost silent smack.

Gohan closed his eyes once more. Before him was once again the looming figure of Cell, only this time, in his grasp, was the lifeless form of a mutilated baby. The untamed black spikes atop the child's head were more than enough indication of the identity of the boy.

There was a new wave of unbridled anger as Gohan emerged from his vision. He eyed the creature before him with unbounded hatred and disgust. Cell had finished, and he was currently looking up at Gohan expectantly. The boy could see in those cunning pink eyes the unwavering tenacity he saw in Vegeta's.

Cell's lips moved again, and the word he pleaded with sounded even more pathetic than the android looked.

"Mercy?"

There were a thousand rabid thoughts running through Gohan's mind, but not one of them was "Mercy." No, Son Gohan was now a Saiyan, He had become one a minute or so earlier, and those words Cell had spoken only succeeded in emblazoning more undying hatred. He wanted nothing more than to submit deeper into the will of that unshackled voice. He had already begun by humiliating the android beyond belief, but now was the time to make the bastard suffer.

The warrior gazed about at the countless, restless faces of his army. He could tell by the focused look of concentration that marred their features as they waited to strike, that every single soldier present shared his exact emotions.

Gohan would find whoever made this happen using the dragon balls, and he would kiss them.

But first, there was a lot of fun to be had.

* * *

King Kai, like any sane god, was someone who appreciated his sleep, particularly when recovering from ailment.

So, when the slightly irate, shattered god was woken up at stupid-o'clock in the morning by Goku, he was far from impressed.

The annoying mortal had an even more annoying habit of being completely restless when forced into the situation of waiting for something. Son Goku as a child was only ever taught the virtue of patience when it came to martial arts, the Earth-raised Saiyan truly failed to understand it's value in the real world. King Kai merely added it to the endless stream of personality traits which Goku possessed that irked him.

The Saiyan was currently slumped on one of King Kai's dining room chairs beside his bed, Goku's legs fell either side forcibly as he sat the wrong way around on the old thing. His arms were crossed atop the carefully carved pattern of an ancient looking dragon that snaked all the way from the bottom of the legs to the peak of the back.

"Come on King Kai, I wanna see how Gohan and Piccolo are doing. Please, it'll only take a second." He pleaded as his chin fell into his arms.

King Kai rolled over onto his stomach and pulled his pillow as best he could over his ears. The Saiyan had been relentless all morning and just wouldn't take no for an answer. What was worse was that Bubbles was also in the annoying habit of brewing tea without asking, and parading into the bedroom with a freshly made cup unannounced, all while hooting and jumping excitedly.

The god was at the end of his tether. All he wanted was to lay in bed for a few more hours and build up the strength and will to return to the outside world. South Kai had always been the one to jest with King Kai about how poorly he dealt with falling ill, sometimes even accusing him of exaggerating his condition as an excuse to boycott some of his appropriate godly duties. Though the South Kai's remarks may have held some truth when regarding the North Kai's earlier days of service, during the later years of the God's life, feeling poorly came with no silver lining.

"Just let me look for five minutes then I swear I'll stop bugging you and you can go back to sleep forever if that's what you want!"

"Goku…"

"I even promise to start doing the washing up." The Saiyan offered desperately, and judging by the way how it was said in a hushed tone, and with such a lack of confidence, Goku had clearly been forced into using his plan B.

It was a fine offer; King Kai couldn't deny that. The fallen warrior's ravenous stomach was quite the specimen, even for a Saiyan, and had become something of a legend amongst the various deities and demi-gods of the upper realm. So having someone else to accommodate for the unquantifiable mountains of dirty dishes the Saiyan was responsible for was pleasing to King Kai, even in his weak state.

"Is that a serious offer?" The kai asked, still nestled beneath the safety of his pillow, silently smirking as he heard Goku stuttering, the realisation of what the Saiyan's words meant still sinking in for both.

"I guess."

And like a bullet King Kai shot out of bed. Suddenly he was up and every bit the coy old martial artist his former self was renowned for being.

"You swear on your life you'll start doing the washing up after dinner every day?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"And you promise I can go back to bed after five minutes?"

"If that's what you want."

"And you won't wake me up every five minutes?" King Kai had been advancing closer and closer to Goku with every question. And at this point he was in such proximity that the Saiyan was forced to wipe a few droplets of spit from atop his mouth, as a result of the God's overexcitement.

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

Goku couldn't believe it. He had outsmarted King Kai! The conditions were that the Saiyan swore on his life, which made them completely redundant. Sure he felt bad, but King Kai would understand, heck, he would probably even be proud of Goku for using his intellect for once, that was one of those things King Kai was always nagging him about.

The Saiyan supressed a smile as his newly recovered friend danced and skipped around with joy, muttering incoherently to himself about what sounded like all the things he could now do with the free time. Further adding to Goku's guilt.

"Well come on then let's get this over with so I can go back to sleep!" The God suddenly demanded, yanking Goku up from his seat and deliberately standing in front of him.

The Saiyan swallowed his mounting guilt and took a deep breath. He was so excited to see how Piccolo and Gohan were getting on, and if his son had finally mastered his anger.

As Usual, the universe went to black for a few seconds as Goku's hands shook somewhat atop King Kai's shoulders. At first, the scene that greeted both was fuzzy, and like an old television set, took a few moments for the picture to gain clarity.

Once it did however…

Goku recoiled and lost reception instantly as his hands went to instinctively rub his eyes. King Kai simply stood, trying to form words which simply wouldn't come out.

"Was that…G-G-Gohan?" The God finally spluttered.

Hands returned, the pair once again delved into the kai's cosmic looking glass. They found the same picture greeting them. What looked like an endless sea of Super Saiyan Gohans, clad in familiar looking Saiyan battle armour, seemingly all surrounding someone in the middle? Only, they couldn't all be Goku's son, there had to be something wrong with King Kai's ability.

"M-m-maybe it's just because you're ill, maybe your mind isn't working properly at the moment." The Saiyan offered shakily, but King Kai wouldn't hear it. "In all my countless years in this position I've never had any problem with my telepathic vision before, and trust me when I say I've felt a thousand times worse than this." The halo hovering above coming to the forefront of the Kai's mind.

"Can you zoom in?"

"I'm not sure I want to."

Goku felt the sudden urge to speak to his son in that moment, but decided once again that in doing so, he would only be making matters worse.

"I know what you mean, I sure hope that isn't Piccolo in the middle there."

"You don't think his anger has gotten the best of him, do you?"

"Of course not King Kai." Goku didn't feel as stern and as confident as his words were. Gohan was also Chichi's son after all.

"Okay, well on your head be this."

The god promptly magnified the image to the point where each individual Gohan was visible, the point of view quickly shifted to what appeared to be the centre of the mass. Both Kai and Saiyan paled at the mutated, sprawled out body that lay beaten on the floor, currently being stomped into the dirt by a disgusted looking Gohan.

It was Cell.

The android was on Earth somehow. And oddly, that was the least strange thing about the vision that was playing out before them.

Neither had any inclination on where to even begin on such a situation. King Kai was about to mouth something, anything, until a haggard voice could rather abruptly be heard in the air. "That Cell really got what was coming to him."

Goku recognised the voice instantly. "Baba?" The Saiyan blurted out, more to himself than anything, before hastily removing his arms from King Kai's shoulders, ending the transmission just as his son had the android by the throat.

Hovering down to the restored planet of the north Kai, atop a crystal ball, was the sister of Master Roshi and friend to Goku for years, Fortune Teller Baba. The frail old woman was shrouded in what appeared to be the blackest of black garments, instantly standing out amongst the jaded pink sky.

As she approached, Goku could hear the light magic sound emanating from the ball as it sauntered through the air, almost like a tiny droplet of water splashing into a lake repeatedly.

King Kai regarded the new arrival with furrowed brows and a perplexed look on his features. "Baba, are you saying you had some hand in what is happening on Earth as we speak?"

"Pfft" The woman scoffed. "I am almost solely responsible for it!"

Goku and the Kai shared a troubled glance. "What happened to Gohan? And why is Cell back on Earth?"

Baba's eyes laid squarely on the Saiyan as she spoke. "Because Goku, your son, as you well know, has had a hard time of late dealing with his…anger issues." The fortune teller seemed to make a big effort of addressing the last part delicately. "And I've done what I can to help him get rid of them."

"By throwing Cell back onto the Earth?! Do you know what King Yemma would do if he found out you helped someone who belongs in Otherworld get back to the lower realm?"

The old woman grinned maliciously from below her pointed hat. "What Yemma doesn't know won't hurt him."

Lost for words once again, King Kai struggled to make sense of what was being said.

"Anyway, I come all the way here to explain myself and I don't even get a hello from either of you. And what does an old woman have to do to get a pot of tea around here?"

King Kai and Goku once again exchanged glances, before the older of the two sighed and motioned for his two guests to follow him inside his beige domed house.

Goku didn't move at first, instead standing perfectly still, mouth agape, and trying to comprehend just what was going on down on his beloved planet. When they were inside, he'd have a lot of questions that needed answering.

* * *

Gohan was nearly one hundred percent sure that it was impossible to beat Cell to death. Thanks to the android's regeneration abilities, whether the creature wanted to or not, he simply kept on surviving. It seemed as though the only thing that would succeed in wiping Cell completely out of existence, was a powerful ki blast. But Gohan had no intentions of letting the android off that easily.

No. Gohan would stop when all that remained of the creature was a green stain on the bottom of his boot. It had been one day since the dragon balls were used, and there would be another three-hundred-and-sixty-four days after this one before the balls could be reused. Thus, the Saiyan had all the time in the world to exact his revenge.

At first, it had been chaos. Every single Gohan had been scrambling past each other to get in as many kicks or punches or stamps as they could, before another one would inevitably barge past and take his place. And after not too long, when the android was suitably flattened, unable to recall his own name, a queue was created.

Each Gohan would take their time soundly beating Cell to within an inch of his life, only for the creature to regenerate, and have it done to himself all over again.

After the first initial beating, Cell was barely able to see or hear, but he could sense that the people surrounding him weren't entirely focused. With what little strength that still remained, the android crawled in whatever direction he was facing. He could feel the baking sun on his back, and the dirt that slipped under each of his blackened fingernails with every desperate claw towards freedom, and he could also make out the hardened boot that stood in his way as his head rammed into it blindly, before all hope was relinquished, and the boot was joined by several others in what remained of the androids darkening field of view.

That's when he could sense an even greater anger building all around him. And before he knew it, the boot which felt almost as soft as a pillow with his wary head resting on it, rose and came crashing down into the back of the android's neck, crushing his battered face in the dirt.

"No escape." He heard a voice, muffled by the earth in his ear hiss.

Clearly the warning earlier wasn't sufficient, as now Cell once again found himself being beaten and crushed from every side. He could make out the satisfied jeers and grunts from the same voice in a hundred different places.

The android was beyond agony. Every nerve was alight with white hot devastation. Never had the creature experienced anything even a fraction as bad as what surged through his body now.

After what felt like forever, and Cell failing to remember who or what he was, the Gohans seemed to be finished. Their dark laughter rang out in the android's ears, as they mocked the broken creature sprawled out on the desert floor.

Then, there was a shuffling of feet, and Cell, unable to move, could sense the mass of people herding away from him, until there was one, that the android could feel looming over his body.

Instantly, his head was yanked up and slammed into the ground with enough force to split a skull. He cried out in pain for the millionth time that day, the only reply to come was the repetition of the action. Again and again the androids hardened skin, tempered in the forgotten labs of Dr Gero, was shoved into the ground. With every impact a deeper shattering of the wires that lay beneath the surface, and thus, a deeper impact upon Cell's brain.

In his mind's eye, was once more the dying world of Namek, left to burn up ingloriously in a sea of molten red, scourging the once vibrant emerald home of the Namekian people.

The tyrant's eyes were his own. Their bleak, hazed vision set wholly on the dominant frame of a golden warrior, who's own intense gaze bore deeply into its fallen enemy's soul. The strikingly bloody man's eyes were fearsome blue orbs alight with a battle's intensity, but behind them lay a resonating pity. Cell's capacity to remember, to think, to even exist was dwindling with every second, and the familiarness that the aglow man's face held was fading.

Cell didn't know why the man pitied him, and he didn't know why his ribs hurt so much, even though no one was touching them.

And then everything came flooding back.

The beatings, the Gohans, the situation.

Everything was clear again.

Cell was regenerating.

The android's full vision returned, only for his eyes to be pressed into the dirt by a tremendous force on the back of his head.

"I'm not done with you yet." He heard the boy sneer.

And like that, Cell was once again plunged into a world of endless torment at the hands of his greatest nightmare.

* * *

"So you tricked Cell?" King Kai suddenly reasoned from across the table.

Baba took a long, drawn out sip of her tea, and Goku grimaced at the loud sucking noise that assaulted his ears. "If you like, yes."

The fortune teller had spent the last hour or so explaining the situation that was taking place down on Earth, and how she had coaxed the android into following her back into the world of the living, under the pretence that Cell would somehow get to exact his terrible revenge on the universe.

"And the Gohans?" Goku responsibly found himself asking.

"Your wife Goku."

"Chichi?"

"Yes. She was planning on using the dragon balls to wish away the guilt and the anger building in Gohan over the past year or so. Only, as you probably know, Shenron holds no power over free will, thus, the wish was redundant."

"So what? She suddenly asked Shenron if she could have a few billion more sons?" King Kai spat disbelievingly.

"Not exactly."

Baba grinned as she looked between the two males who were currently gawking at her like deer caught in a headlight.

"Your wife accidently wished for everyone on the planet to be more like her son."

King Kai instantly spat the steaming hot tea in his mouth all over his oak dining room table. "No…"

"As you well know King Kai, Shenron is a very…literal creature. He doesn't wholly grasp the deeper meanings and connotations that lay within our language. To him, black is black, and white is white, and there is nothing in between."

Goku put the pieces together in his head. "So Shenron made everyone on the planet into Gohan?"

"Exactly." The fortune teller answered.

"And just as this was happening, I led a very unsuspecting Cell down to Earth, and left him free to pursue the boy to the best of his wishes."

She took another sip after chuckling maniacally. "I wish I could have seen the look on his face when all of those Gohans found him."

"But…why?" King Kai found himself asking, and Goku was glad the god did, as he too was wandering the same thing.

"Because your son is dangerous Son Goku."

"H-he is?"

"I'm afraid so, ever since he was a boy he's had quite the explosive temper, correct?"

Goku's mind was awash with countless memories of his first son unleashing his anger upon some unsuspecting enemy. "That's right."

"Which is nothing out of the ordinary I might add. But Gohan was also born with an anomaly."

"And what's that? He's not part god or something, is he?"

The fortune teller waved away King Kai's words and sneered at their absurdity. "Of course not."

"Gohan was born with an endless fountain of ki. He is the only mortal who can tap into power that is truly infinite."

Goku was speechless at the sudden fact. Was his son that powerful? He always knew Gohan was the strongest of all of them due to his ability to explode in anger, but this just sounded insane!

"And you say he was having trouble with his anger after the Cell games."

"Precisely." Baba replied, shooting the kai a finger of recognition. "So I felt it was best for the universe that he sate those anger issues, and go back to being a normal little boy with a bit of a temper, lest reality pay the ultimate price."

A sudden silence, permeated with tension filled the air.

"So…what now?" King Kai wandered aloud.

"We let him get on with it. It's the only thing for it."

The words hung for a few moments. King Kai coming to face the grim reality that befell them all, realising that there was little choice in the matter. The boy had to be helped, it was just that he almost felt sorry for Cell. The god dare not try to imagine the kind of things the android was having done to him.

Goku was perfectly quiet from his place across the table, his mug of tea not even missing of a drop. The news was so utterly terrifying it felt as though the Saiyan was dying all over again, which was strange, because in life, he didn't fear death, only the idea that his passing would in some part be letting friends and family down. And now that sudden, horrible feeling in the bottom of his gut had returned. Goku should have been there to help Gohan through this, he was being selfish and it could have cost the universe.

"Try not to worry yourself Goku. It was only a precaution I had to take, your son is as pure-hearted as you, I only did what I did because it's my job to do so, and just know that if it was you who had been facing the same problem, I would have done the same thing a thousand times over if that's what it took."

The fortune teller squeezed Goku's hand soothingly, and he could feel the warmth of the living in that moment. It made him sad but the words were comforting, sometimes he did want to go back.

Goku was never one to back down from a decision however. And once Gohan made it through this, then he could do whatever he wanted with his life, no longer plagued by the crippling anger that Cell had drawn out of him.

Did Cell really deserve it though?

That was a whole other matter.

But if what Baba said was true, then they didn't have a choice.


	13. Chapter 13

Gohan had been waiting so long for this.

Since Cell's second arrival, days, weeks, and possibly even months had blended into one. No one knew just how much time had passed, as no one thought timekeeping within the context of what was going on to be important.

Gohan was still so very angry, and making Cell suffer was one of only two priorities, the other being staying alive. Food, water and shelter provided the smallest satisfaction to the now regressive part of the Saiyan's mind. And the time spent answering his bodily needs was completely maddening.

It was impossible to focus on anything other than punishing the android. Everything else was something of a burden.

But soon it would be time. Gohan could sense that his identical counterpart was nearing the end of his _session_.

Night had fallen, the air was crisp with the smell of autumn spice and a full moon hung gracefully from the mildly cloudy sky. The only people around were clones, save for Cell, and so the world felt eerily empty, and for good reason. Adding to that was the instantly obvious lack of animals, whom had all been long scared away from their desert home by the shocking display of violence that continued to shake the entire planet on occasion. Even for a wasteland this place was lifeless.

Gohan didn't care.

He had spent so long festering over all the evil things Cell had done. The people he had mercilessly absorbed, who had no doubt begged for their lives and been granted a slow, terrifying and atrocious death. Countless lives lost so pointlessly in the pursuit of power. Sure, the dragon balls had reversed the physical damage, but there were so many people who would forever be scarred by the creature who took their lives. Children who had perished at the android's hands who had to bear the burden so prematurely of the coldness of death. Parents who would suffer in guilt and torment for the rest of their lives as they relived the moment they watched helplessly as their own offspring were taken from them. Earth's history was darkened by the cruel regime of past dictators and fascists, but every one of them paled in comparison to the horror Cell had wrought in his short time on the planet. The android had no regard for anything but himself, and Gohan was sick to death of people like that harming the innocent.

He also thought about his father, and how he was ripped away after barely spending a day in six years without worrying about who was threatening the balance of good in the universe. Gohan had been robbed of his childhood because of people like Cell, and now it was time to pay.

He knew the android wouldn't change. He knew that Cell would murder Gohan, and every other living soul in the universe if he had the chance. He would spare no one, no man, woman or child. They would all burn in the fires of the android's sick sadistic pleasure. His mother, Piccolo, Krillin, even Goten.

Gohan bit his lip in anticipation and licked the blood that seeped out of the cracks. Watching another version of himself beat Cell so relentlessly as he was now offered little-to-no satisfaction, he had to experience the pleasure himself.

He didn't know if it had anything to do with the full moon, but his heart was pounding furiously, and his anger was even more intense than it had been the whole-time Cell was on Earth.

He would take his time with the android – making sure it's suffering was astronomical. Gohan intended to put Cell through every inch of agony the creature had inflicted on the citizens of Earth tenfold.

The foul beast would beg for mercy and find only more pain as the answer to its pleas. Gohan wanted to see Cell humiliated. The android held its ego in such high regard, and it deserved to have it stripped away. He would take great satisfaction in doing so.

There would be nothing left but pulp by the time he was through, it was the Saiyan way to do it. And right now Gohan was nothing but a Saiyan. It was thrilling, the knowledge that in a few moments he would have a chance to crush the one who had caused so much pain to himself and his family, crush the wretch until it was nothing more than a wad of paste that stained the sole of his boot.

Gohan was struggling to contain himself as his mind wandered, and concentrating on anything else was becoming more and more difficult. Even the world of ki was reduced to a distant ringing in the back of his head.

His eyes fell on the image of his super Saiyan self standing tall over the battered corpse of Cell, but what Gohan was actually seeing was very different. It was like he was on another planet, just him and the android and all the rage and hatred that tore at his soul burned so brightly and passionately that it blazed in a crimson flame through his fists and feet. It was just him, and that smarm grin the android had worn when it had returned after killing Gohan's father, no matter how badly he punished that face, it's smile only became more satisfied, more sadistic. The vision was so intense and so real his grasp on reality and the tenuous restraints of human compassion were growing weaker. Gohan thought he had already submitted fully to the shrill voice that haunted his nightmares, but as the time to finally meet Cell came closer, he realised that there were even colder, darker depths of anger and hatred a Saiyan could draw from. This was the true power of his race.

Gohan could feel his eye twitching and his breathing becoming faster as his mind swapped so seamlessly from dreams to reality. He didn't even notice the smile that tugged at his lips, not a smirk, but a smile of genuine happiness, the first real moment Gohan had felt happy as a Saiyan, and it had been worth the wait.

Especially when he saw the copy of himself brush his blood-soaked hands together and give the android on the floor one final kick for good measure, before powering down and abruptly flying off eastwards without saying a word.

Gohan quickly found his smile had mutated into an expression of shock when his other self had disappeared into the night sky and the tortured body of Cell lay only a few metres away, with absolutely nothing standing in between but a few upheaved rocks and patches of scattered dust from previous encounters.

This was too good to be true. Gohan quickly shot his head from left to right to make sure no one else was around. No one else besides him and the android existed on Earth anymore anyway, but for some reason he had to check. The odds of something this spectacular happening were so astronomically small that the human part of his brain concluded that this moment had to be fabricated, and that he would wake up any second in his bed only to find victory had been snatched away as a false promise, and that he could never truly defeat Cell like he wanted to.

He closed his eyes for a moment and sucked in the cold midnight air, fully expecting that when they reopened, familiar patterns etched into the ceiling of the Son house would greet his tortured mind as he awoke in his bed, a cold and empty shell.

There was no such result. Gohan opened his eyes and found glee in what he saw. The broken body of Cell still lay helplessly on the desert ground. The creature was regenerating as he could feel it's pathetic ki growing ever so slightly and its mangled limbs clicking and snapping back into their correct position. How he would enjoy forcibly bending them back into agony.

And what was this? It seemed Cell was trying to escape. With incredible difficulty, it was heaving one fractured limb at a time, only advancing a few feet with every desperate stroke. Gohan listened with barely restrained delight as the android huffed and groaned out just a fraction of the anguish it was feeling.

Oh, how it was going to get worse.

His feet moved before his mind was done savouring the sight. Before he could comprehend it, he was at the creature's side, standing over it's still writhing body. Cell gave a barely audible grunt as he must have realised another Gohan was present.

"Going somewhere?" The Saiyan mocked.

Cell gave no response, instead the android continued in its futile effort to flee. Gohan placed his hands on his hips and opened his mouth to say something but was surprised to hear a familiar deep voice cut through the breezy night air.

"You…won't…..break me."

The Saiyan almost winced at the pain so evident in Cell's voice. His eyes scanned the creature over. It still looked so mutated from its attempt to detonate the bomb, but on top of that were the endless streams of violet blood cascading out of countless wounds and cuts that littered every part of the android's body. Its bone structure was intact thanks to regeneration but that was about the only thing unharmed. Its eyes were barely open and Gohan could hear each breath it took was hitched with serious internal damage. If the creature hadn't stolen Namekian cells then it would have died a million times over, somewhere in Gohan's mind he wandered if Cell even realised this.

"Looks to me like you already are."

The android gave a raspy, dark chuckle as it coughed up more blood. Regeneration was returning its voice, albeit slowly and painfully. "You can beat me to death a million times and I'll never change, I nearly killed your family and friends once, and look at you, your becoming worse than me."

Cell smirked as he spoke but was shocked to find the same cold, indifferent stare on Gohan's face tearing through him. The boy seemed completely unmoved by his words. "Remember when I was trying to torture your anger out of you? And you wouldn't give in, because you were scared by the damage you might do, and the violence you would cause? Oh, how you hated violence, well guess what Son Gohan, it is I that has broken you, I've changed you forever, and no matter how much you try to fight it, you will always be a monster like me."

Cell wiped but a fraction of the blood that soaked his mouth away with his hand, and began to laugh with his whole body uncontrollably. His chest heaved with such great pain every time his body jolted, but it was worth it, to see the look on the boy's face…

Gohan remained completely still as he eyed the android in front of him. There was no obvious emotion in those stormy eyes, only a kind of cold detachment. He seemed to let the words pass right through him until he took one imposing step forward and placed his foot on the android's head. It immediately ceased it's laughing. Gohan grinned down at the pain he was causing.

"You're wrong Cell. Once I'm done with you, I won't need to be a monster anymore."

"And why is that?" The creature barely managed to splutter.

"You really think I care about hurting someone like you? I'm going to keep beating you until _I'm_ satisfied that you've been put through enough agony, I don't care about how it changes _you_ at all."

Gohan could feel the android's face twitch from underneath his boot with the venom in his words, it was about to say something, but was never allowed to as Gohan pushed his leg down and applied pressure. He could feel Cell's face give way more and more until there was a loud _splat,_ and the skin was punctured, creating new waves of thick, purple blood that exploded outwards and marred the dark desert floor a deeper shade.

Cell cried out and instinctively clutched his face in his hands, more blood still seeping between his fingertips. "You wretched child!" He bellowed, but it was muffled by the pain. Gohan gave him no respite as he grabbed the android by the neck and yanked him into the air, it choked and huffed as its mouth searched desperately to suck in a breath that simply couldn't penetrate the boy's iron grip. Gohan pulled that hideous face forward so their noses were nearly touching. Cell's eyes locked with the boy's and he felt the same fear that crippled his soul when he had first faced Son Gohan over a year ago.

 _Cell couldn't believe it. He had summoned his full power in all its majesty. There were cries of horror and disbelief from the boy's friends, but none from the boy himself. He had focused all his ki into that one punch, all his hatred and spite tempered the thrust, and when he felt soft, pale skin come into contact with his fist, unprotected by any kind of defence at all, he was sure the boy would buckle._

 _Instead, that demon child's face barely moved an inch, taking it's eyes off Cell for the first time since they had begun, only for a second, before turning back to face the android with the same cold, penetrative stare. Cell felt his anger well up in that moment and he moved to strike the boy again. But before he could, there was a fist embedded in his chest with so much force and strength that it almost punctured straight through his stomach._

 _Cell huffed and spluttered as he felt new meaning to the word "agony." With much effort, he tried to catch the boy off-guard, only to a find a swift uppercut delivered with even more precision and power than the last strike. He collapsed to his knees, his mind struggling to cope with the pain and how such a thing could ever happen._

 _Blood and saliva intertwined as it poured from his mouth and trickled down his chin._

 _A few gasps came from atop the cliff and even amidst the pain, Cell could tell that the others were just as shocked as he at that awful child's power._

 _His mind was awash with calculations and automatic responses. There was a logical solution to this, Cell was the ultimate power in the entire universe, and there was no way this brat would defeat him._

 _He only had to find a weakness, and then he could exploit it._

 _Without any warning, the boy began to stalk forward at a sauntering pace towards Cell. The android decided he'd had enough, charging two golden disks of ki, one in each hand. With a shout, he released them with renewed hatred._

 _They sizzled through the air with a deadly humming noise. Cell watched his two creations close in, only for them to be effortlessly caught by the boy, and tossed asunder as if they were nothing._

 _Cell wasted no time in his next attack, collecting his ki into his fingertips, and placing the now crackling digits to his forehead. With another cry, he sent the spiralling bolt of chrome and scarlet energy hurtling towards its target. Again however, the boy dealt with Cell's attack like it was nothing but a fleabite, batting it away to a safe distance with minimal effort._

 _This was getting ridiculous now. How could anyone possess this kind of power? Cell was putting everything into his attacks, and they were proving to be completely harmless and ineffective._

 _The boy was growing agonisingly close with every step. Cell immediately pointed his finger in his direction and shot out as many balls of ki as he could muster in quick succession._

 _Much to his chagrin, this time the boy didn't even bother to lift a finger to stop them. Instead, they simply dissolved before impact. Though Cell was starting to doubt if they would have done any damage even if they had hit._

 _The android was speechless as he and this monster came face-to-face._

 _And suddenly, there was a new sensation. Cold and relentless running through his spine, up his neck, chilling his entire body. He'd never felt anything like it, something so terrible that it left him feeling completely powerless. For a split second, he could see himself in the boy's icy eyes, and he wandered if it was a trick of light, but he had seen the expression on his own face on so many others before._

 _The people he had absorbed, that shock-ridden expression of utter panic and despair, he could see it now, and for the first time he could feel it too._

 _Son Gohan had shown him what it was like to feel fear._

Gohan's breath was hot on Cell's face, but the android would have given anything in that moment to not feel so cold by any other means.

"I know when you're lying Cell. Earlier when you pretended to want my help to change, I could see right through it. But this time, I really will make you beg me for mercy."

With that, the Saiyan threw his prey to the ground and cracked his knuckles, he was about to get to work.

* * *

Realise it's pretty dark at this point, sorry guys!


	14. Chapter 14

Gohan, his son. How had he missed it? How had he been so phenomenally ignorant to what was so obvious? The boy had been conveying messages of his true power his whole life, and somehow, Goku had inadvertently turned a blind eye to every single one.

There was Raditz, Nappa, Vegeta, the Ginyu force, Freiza, Cell. _Especially Cell._ Goku had witnessed almost all his son's battles, and the ones he hadn't he had been most eager to learn about from either Krillin or Piccolo.

So how had he missed it? Gohan's power was special, erratic and so _limitless._ The kid had a universe's worth of energy to draw from. The signs were there, he knew Gohan was strong, but this was just madness.

Baba's words had been impossible to escape for his mind. They had struck a chord with his inherent desire to protect the one's he cared for and loved, and had reawakened the fire in his heart that burned to defend his son.

Goku felt guilty, humiliated and ashamed all at once for what he had so spectacularly missed. It was his duty, as a father and as a friend to sense something so significant.

Months had passed, nine to be exact, and the Saiyan had found his soul and his heart ached far too much to train, laugh, eat or do anything for that matter. His mind was clouded with the burden he failed to uphold. And the dull setting of King Kai's planet did nothing to lift his sour mood, it was just another reminder of his shortcomings and failures after all.

So selfish it was to stay dead, he had put the world before his family, and had left them without a second thought. His goodbye was as carefree and as jovial as one would expect from Son Goku, and the pain that that alone must have caused Gohan and Chichi…

How could he have done this?

Didn't he care about them? Didn't their lives or their well-being matter at all in his mind?

"Goku, dinner's ready. Will you eat with us?"

King Kai's nasally voice shook him from his thoughts and he looked up from his place under _Piccolo's tree_ to see the god smiling warmly down at him, a bowl of deliciously scented steaming food in one hand, and a tall glass of something equally delightful in the other.

Goku hadn't felt hungry since Baba visited, and he didn't even have the strength or the energy to get into another argument with his dear friend about the importance of eating or the reasons everything wasn't his fault, King Kai was just being polite, as a friend, but Goku knew all of this really _was_ his fault.

"No thanks, I'm not feeling very hungry."

The god only continued to smile widely, gently setting the portion of his finest cuisine down on the floor before taking one final look at his friend and sighing in defeat. "Suit yourself Goku, come inside whenever you're ready." He offered before sauntering away.

Goku nodded solemnly. His eyes immediately casting back out towards the sky to observe nothing in particular. When did he become such a bad father?

"Would you go back?" The kai suddenly asked, his back still turned to the Saiyan, and his voice far more serious than his usual mirthful tone.

Blinking a few times incredulously, Goku lost his composure. "I'm sorry?"

"Would you return to the world of the living if you could?"

Goku sighed again and clambered to his feet. He never really considered it, once his mind was made up about something, very rarely was there a change in that big heart of his. But said as it was now, it seemed so obvious. He could make a difference and make up to Gohan and Chichi all the time he had already lost, and he could protect his son by his side.

King Kai smirked in that devilish way so ordinarily present when the old kook was telling a joke. He could see the battle in his former apprentice's head as if the two raging sides of pride and love were confronting each other before his eyes. Warm was his heart and lifted was his soul as Goku's decision wrestled on and fell further and further into the side of love.

The god almost chuckled watching the display. Goku was hunched over, hands balled into fists, his body poised in such a way the Saiyan looked as though he was summoning some of his legendary power. That wry smile of battle had returned and the very planet they stood on seemed to shake with Goku's rising determination.

"I could save Gohan, and look after Chichi, and even meet my new son!"

King Kai nodded along with enthusiasm to match his companion.

"And I could spar with Gohan and see just how strong he really is!"

The god reframed from collapsing due to anger and exasperation. Instead frowning and realising how unsurprising the words from that smiling mouth were. He didn't doubt his old friend's sincerity, but Son Goku would never pass up an opportunity for a good battle, that's just how he was.

"Maybe hold up on the fighting front for now okay?"

Goku's big dark eyes scanned over his former mentor, for a moment the Saiyan looked genuinely upset and disappointed. "I think Gohan will've probably had enough of fighting by the time you see him."

"I suppose you're right King Kai."

"Okay, now if you're ready, we'll contact the elder Namekian, what was his name again? Moori?"

Goku suddenly seemed disinterested and for a second the god thought his friend had abandoned the idea of returning to life altogether. That was until King Kai's planet shook for a second time, however the source of the trembling was very different from before, Goku's eyes going wandering again before settling squarely on the steaming bowl of fried rice and breaded fish lying forgotten by his feet. His stomach yearned so deeply for them in that moment. And King Kai didn't even have to let Goku ask, he merely shrugged and nodded in defeat.

It seemed his old friend was making up for lost time in more ways than one.

* * *

It was amazing to feel Cell writhe and squirm in agony from within his grasp. The android's windpipe had been crushed six times already that day, and Gohan was intent on making it seven.

Cell gave no protest or resistance anymore, he had stopped doing so a while ago when he realised the futility of his actions. There was simply no escaping the planet full of people intent on making him suffer.

Gohan choked the android beneath him with ardent hatred and burning anger. The pathetic state of the creature who was sullying his own hands with it's hideous blood was only serving to antagonise him further. He punched its blood-soaked head, knocking its broken position from left to right. It squealed in pain, only spurring the Saiyan on further.

He relinquished his grip of its neck, slamming his fists repeatedly into each of the creature's cheeks. With each contact, more blood would spurt from its mouth and drench Gohan's gi a deeper shade of violet.

This continued for several minutes until finally the Saiyan stopped, his breathing ragged and his eyes less feral. His body still shook with intensity as he rose and peered down at the creature with satisfaction.

A cruel smirk on his lips took shape as Cell spluttered and coughed, his hands covering his mouth, trying to stop any more of his vital fluids from escaping his tormented body.

Gohan was taking dark pleasure in how easily he was dominating the android. But the Saiyan part of his mind wanted to see the creature at least put up a fight. At the moment, it wasn't even worth the dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

"Get up!" He suddenly demanded.

Cell groaned and flipped himself onto his front with all his effort. His arms trembled as he attempted to heave himself onto broken legs.

Gohan sneered at the woeful display. The creature's body was completely wrecked, one pink eye permanently shut, no teeth to speak of, and no bone unfractured or pointing the correct way.

The Saiyan decided he'd had enough and forcibly yanked the android to its feet.

Cell struggled maintaining consciousness, let alone balance, but miraculously he stayed upright amidst the agonising pain shooting through his legs and up through his entire body.

Gohan motioned for the creature to attack, and when Cell stumbled forward groggily and threw an agonisingly slow punch at nothing and no one in particular, the Saiyan lost his patience.

His golden aura crackled with anticipation, a lone bolt of electricity dancing through his leg as it plunged into the android's stomach, cutting it clean open and leaving an enormous boot imprint branded into the creature's chest.

Gore saturated the open wound and Gohan remained perfectly still for a moment, his foot still firmly planted into Cell's body. The creature's left eye bulged in agony and it was rendered unable to move from the white-hot pain cascading through every one of its nerves.

Gohan's eyes remained fixed on the android as he stood in perfect posture, his kick a picture of well-trained and flawlessly executed technique. The Saiyan's face was cold and agitated as he let the androids body slide down after finally lessening the pressure of his foot.

He waited until Cell's form had slunk fully down towards the ground and stopped it by its head at the last moment with the tip of his boot. That Saiyan like smirk had returned as he held the android's chin up on his foot, his own head gesturing slightly at the vile concoction of dirt and blood that stained the bottom of his boot.

"Clean that up."

* * *

Goku grimaced and snatched his hand away from King Kai's shoulder, unable to continue watching the actions of his son.

King Kai only frowned at the display, it wasn't really his place to make a passing comment about Gohan when the boy's father was standing right behind him, it just wouldn't be appropriate, this was Goku's responsibility.

"I never thought I'd see him like this." The Saiyan said to no one in particular, his normally compassionate eyes losing some of their inherent brightness.

King Kai struggled desperately to change to subject of conversation and draw Goku's mind away from what they had both just witnessed. He really didn't want his friend to fall into another spiralling state of depression.

"Relax Goku, soon he'll be able to change everything with the dragon balls, and then Moori will bring you back to life."

The god suddenly became more serious. "Now do you see why I told the Namekians to wish you back only after Gohan had used the dragon balls himself?"

Goku nodded absently, his mind a million miles away.

"Good." King Kai stated matter-of-factly before returning to the big domed house he was so happy to share with his dear friend. "I'll make us some tea."

The Saiyan stood motionless. When did such a change happen in his son? Gohan had lost control during the Cell games, and his rather fervent devotion to hurting the android had seemed so foreign at the time, but this was just unbelievable. Gohan was the one who appalled violence, the one who would rather go through the most excruciating pain if it meant he wouldn't have to resort to hurting anything or anyone.

Yet that boy who delighted in crushing the life from Cell's body out in that desert was so undeniably Goku's son, was so undeniably _Gohan_.

If it were anyone else on that floor he would have said to hell with the rules and teleported to his son to stop him in a heartbeat. But as it was the creature that had so mercilessly drawn the anger that it was now suffering as a result of out from Gohan's body, Goku couldn't help but feel that there was some kind of strange justice involved. In truth, Cell maybe didn't quite deserve the full extent of the anguish and humiliation he was currently being subjected to, but he certainly did deserve to be punished, none more so than by Gohan.

Goku still found it difficult to watch, even impossible at the times when Gohan's anger was at its most _intense._ But he couldn't let it deter him. Once his son had used the dragon balls and restored the planet's populace, he would return. And together, they would manage Gohan's power and his emotions one step at a time.

Cause at his current state, Goku wasn't sure Gohan could be trusted to live on the planet unattended. Although it broke his heart to say such a thing, he would never lose the pride and the love he felt for his son. His heart soared with unbreakable determination to ensure everything was right for Gohan, and to make up to him what he so carelessly missed.

This was only another obstacle that had to be overcome. Goku felt no arrogance in saying that he was maybe the only person in the universe who would be able to shake Gohan from his current state of fury.

He only hoped when this all finished that the boy wouldn't be so laden with guilt like he had been after the Cell games.

Goku knew that the key to the future was teaching his son to control his emotions, although he knew some things were easier said than done.


	15. Chapter 15

Two days remained until Earth would return to normal. There would be no more Cell, no rampant army of Gohans bent on torturing the aforementioned android, and no more heartache in the Son family. Goku would re-join the world of the living, and spend the rest of his life making up to his family the time he had missed.

The past few months had been testing to say the least. Every day Goku would ask King Kai to let him watch his son, and every day the god would warn him such a thing was a bad idea. But he knew Goku better than anybody, and he knew that stubbornness was as ingrained into the son family and the Saiyan race as fighting was.

When Goku wanted to do something, he did it, and when it came to doing something that he needed help with, well, he could be an annoying bastard that was for sure.

King Kai was simply glad to see his good friend back in good spirit however, even if he was still irked about the whole washing up thing.

But the days were running out, and time was finally favouring the android of all people. Soon Cell's suffering would be at an end, and the time to make things right would be upon them.

Goku could hardly wait. Far from being the patient type outside of fighting, he had spent the last couple of days training his body to its limits to keep his mind off the wait. The secrets of the ascended super Saiyan transformation were still beyond his grasp, and King Kai had warned that asking Gohan about it may be slightly inappropriate, particularly within the first few minutes of returning.

Goku didn't understand the problem, but he knew when to listen to his former mentor, even if he had ignored and actually acted against north Kai in past battles. The god remembered the chilling way Goku had said back on Namek "I'll never forgive you if you don't let me continue my fight with Freeza."

It was approaching lunchtime, and as per the usual of the last few months, the Saiyan would watch his son for as long as his conscience would allow him before filling that Saiyan stomach to the brim.

On que, King Kai emerged from his house, bubbles closely behind, both carrying bowls in each of their hands. Goku sauntered over, as the god and his pet set the dishes down on the wooden table outside. They shared a smile as no words were needed, King Kai turning around and allowing his once student to place his palms on the god's shoulders.

"Remember, just take your hands off whenever you've seen enough, and the mental link will be broken."

The Saiyan nodded sternly. "Right."

This never got any easier. The idea of Gohan being some sadistic torturer was so hard to accept. Goku remembered with fondness and with guilt watching his son grow into a man at such a tender age. The shy, unwaveringly polite young boy who radiated the same kindness and warmth to strangers as he did to his loved ones was so far removed from that Saiyan warrior who lived on Earth now.

Goku never felt anything but pride and love for his family, and he knew that what was going on down below was the result of poor fathering and exposure to a world that no child should ever have to experience.

Gohan was not to blame, and he would fight anyone who thought otherwise.

But he still couldn't watch for more than a minute or two.

The picture shook slightly and the unfocused shot of the desert came into view, Goku still didn't understand why King Kai's telepathic abilities resembled an old-fashioned television set so much. even though the god had explained it a hundred times, the Saiyan's brain trembled at the words "cosmic interference" and thus everything that came after went in one ear and out the other.

Eventually the picture found its quality and details became more apparent. Goku saw Cell on the floor, and it almost hurt his eyes seeing the damage the android had sustained, and as the picture slowly zoomed outwards, panning in sync with Goku's mind, it was clear that more than one Gohan was present.

Ordinarily, Cell was only accompanied by one version of the young Super Saiyan, as Gohan seemed to appreciate a more personal experience of clobbering the android, but today, there looked to be hundreds of them, all surrounding Cell.

Something didn't feel right, and a sick feeling twisted in Goku's gut, his heart ached for him to snatch his hands away but there was a nagging voice in his mind that told him what came next was going to be important.

The Saiyan had learned to listen to that voice down the years. It was the same voice that told him he should stay on Namek to fight Freeza, the same voice that told him not to be wished home while he was on Yardrat, and the same voice which told him that there was more than meets the eye with his son's latent power.

Goku focused his senses and awaited what came next.

* * *

Two more days of torture and it would all be over. To Cell's credit, he had found a new lease of life in the past week, knowing that his suffering was drawing to a close, the android had been verbally fighting back against the endless beatings he was subjected to.

He took great pleasure in reminding his tormentor of the death of his father. In fact, he had spent all of today shouting it at the top of his lungs. Cell's eyes were beyond destroyed, so it made it hard to gauge the reaction of the boy, but judging by the increase of intensity in the countless punches and kicks he had received, it seemed as though he had elicited the desired outcome from the Saiyan.

Yes, making the boy more angry and more upset with himself then he already was served as one of only two goals for Cell, the other being enduring the torture to the very end.

To know that he had used his last days to emotionally hurt Gohan gave the android great satisfaction, and any emotion other than pain was welcomed with open arms by the broken creation of Dr Gero at this point.

Cell was in a rare good mood, and he was sure that if his knee caps hadn't been torn out and his legs ripped open like wet tissue, there would be a spring in his step.

Sure, he was going to die, but he would die in the knowledge of victory, it was Gohan who would have to live in guilt for the rest of his miserable life, and to live with such pitiful feelings was to not live at all in the android's book.

Still, Cell realised he didn't look particularly victorious in his current state. And somehow he could tell that the boy standing beside him was not alone, or rather it wasn't the only version present. No, there were others all around him, he could sense them in his mind, theworld of ki must have been returning as his body gradually regenerated, now this was a strange turn of events.

Had Cell miscalculated and today was the day of the return of the dragon balls? Could it be that this was the end?

The android chuckled darkly from his place on the ground as he felt his senses return with the healing of his body.

Sure enough, he could see the Gohan's all around him. They were silent as they held that icy gaze, which would have intimidated Cell a year ago, but now, he found nothing but pleasure in seeing the pain in those eyes.

"Is this it then?!" He bellowed from the warm, dusty surface of the Earth. "Is this the end?"

Cell's questions were met with more silence. All around him the boy's presence became more apparent with the regeneration of the android's body. He could hear the sounds of the world again, the snap of the electricity that licked at Gohan's frame, the gentle early afternoon breeze as it whipped at the dust on the floor. And then Cell could feel the overwhelming power of Gohan entrapping him. Like a violent storm, it crackled and whirled in his mind, nothing he had ever faced compared with it.

Most unexpectedly, he was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and yanked into the sky, the rest of the boy's clones following close behind.

Cell recovered from his brief shock at the turn of the events, cruelly smirking as he looked up at the boy whose eyes were concentrated firmly on the sky ahead. "Have you finally given in and realised that you and I should be friends?"

Again, Gohan gave no sign of even hearing the android's words, but Cell continued nonetheless. "Yes, we're like accomplices. The two people responsible for the murder of Son Goku."

He knew that would work.

The grip Cell felt round his throat intensified considerably. "I think the humans would send me to prison, but I wouldn't worry yourself, all you'd get would be a lifetime in one of those mental institutions."

For once Gohan had given Cell the mercy of being beaten into unconsciousness, not that the android remembered, all he knew now was that he was sprawled out on the floor somewhere other than that damn desert.

Sight returning, the android took in his surroundings. Gohan was there, or rather, Gohans. The floor was made of a gleaming white marble, sectioned into hundreds of square tiles eventually forming a circular outline to the structure which couldn't have been more than a few hundred feet in diameter. There were a dozen or so well-groomed plants and flowerbeds scattered evenly around under the afternoon sun and Judging by the lack of anything but sky on the horizon, it seemed that whatever this place was, it was suspended in the air.

Cell's database suggested that the humans of this planet didn't have the technology to build such a structure. His mind was racing with calculations trying to make sense of it all so much that the android had missed the great towering palace which loomed in the distance, it's regal gold roof twinkling in the intense heat.

Cell was still searching his databanks when he was once again manhandled onto his feet, this times there must have been around eight Gohans dragging him along towards the direction of the great archaic temple.

He still found the boy's strength to be amazing, to think that someone so young could possess so much power, having said that, that golden monster looked far from a child in his current form. He couldn't work out if it was the electricity, the lone bang of hair that actually fell in line with gravity unlike all the others, or the omnipresent snarling expression that made the child look like a cross between a god and a demon. Maybe it was all three.

Then Cell saw them. Seven stone balls, perfectly spherical, gathered into a hexagonal shape with one standing proudly in the centre. The dragon balls, sitting motionless on a pink silk cushion under the shade of the palace walls, yet to be revived.

The android had overheard Gohan talking about whether the balls would ever return now that Dende, who was now apparently the Namekian guardian of Earth was a version of himself. But Cell refused to believe that he would be denied an end to all this suffering. And besides, apparently Dende wasn't actually dead, so the balls must still have been alive.

Just seeing those things had put Cell in an even better mood. Pounding headache and general pain aside, he couldn't believe his luck. He was on the final stretch. Soon the balls would be back and he would be put out of his misery, not before making sure Gohan lost the last inklings of his own sanity.

Speaking of which…

"Do you know what's funny?" The android cheerily asked to no one in particular as he was dragged further and further into the dimly lit hallways that snaked their way through the inside of the palace. "When Goku teleported us to King Kai's planet, and I was about to explode, I could see exactly what he was thinking in that moment. There's a legend on Earth that my creator was rather fond of, they say that when a human is killed, they hold the scene of their death within their eyes, and if their death is a murder, then it's actually possible to see the murderer frozen in time as he commits the act and ends the person's life."

"I think you know where this is going don't you boy?" All eight of them gave no pause in their dragging, their eyes focused in front. Cell was flanked on both sides and he could see that ever-present expression of anger and hatred sharpen slightly at his words.

"In his left eye, I saw myself." Then Cell chuckled darkly. "And in his right eye, well, I don't think I need to describe _him_ for you."

The android was expecting to be dropped to the floor and have the shit beaten out of him but instead found surprise when he heard his captors snickering briefly at something. The cruel expression on Gohan's face left Cell feeling uneasy as they moved deeper and deeper into the palace.

Where on Earth were the boys taking him? And what was this place? Some kind of royal fortress dedicated to the dragon balls? Was this where they were supposed to be used?

"Where are we?" Cell asked abruptly, but he failed to fully mask the apprehension in his voice, something he realised the Saiyans had noticed.

The boys didn't reply, but their wide smiles continued on even as the android began to berate them over and over about the loss of Son Goku for what must have been the hundredth time that day.

Until suddenly they had stopped. The corridor looked no different to any others, except for the imposing, tall doorway that stood at the end. Something about it made Cell's stomach lurch in uncertainty. There was nothing out of the ordinary in appearance, but there was a feeling that made the android think whatever was waiting for him on the other side of that thick, oak frame didn't quite belong.

"We're here." The Gohan out in front beamed, it was the most jovial the android had heard the boy in the whole time he had known him.

Cell braced himself as the door was opened and a glowing white light assaulted his eyes and for a moment he thought he might go blind without getting his head kicked in for the first time.

They roughly thrusted him inside and he immediately collapsed to the floor. It felt very strange, like the air was heavy. Not having recovered fully, Cell had difficulty breathing and he could have sworn his body was overheating, everything about this place made even existing seem harder.

Looking up but still shielding his eyes the android was astounded to find what looked like living quarters surrounding him. Four beds tucked away in one corner, each draped by a violet, silk curtain. A dining table with serviettes accompanying each of the four chairs tucked neatly underneath, a few loan stools and seats strewn around and in a side room Cell peaked what looked like an enormous refrigeration unit standing tall next to a kitchen surface, atop which was a plethora of cooking utensils and a selection of variously sized and sharpened knifes.

Cell huffed as he scanned around for more details and he could feel his limbs croak and click in protest as he willed them to move. Everything about this place was so blindingly white, and there was a thick, poignant smell of sweat in the air.

The boys had been looking around themselves and they seemed to be able to move a lot more freely and with greater agility. Something about the way one of them immediately strutted to the bed and hopped onto it made the android feel like Gohan had been here before.

And then they were around him, standing imposingly from each side, looking down, mocking him. "Do you know what this place is?" One questioned.

"N-no?"

Smirking, another Gohan stepped forward, hands on hips as he spoke. "It's called the room of spirit and time, this is where my father and I trained to defeat you."

Cell couldn't help but smirk right back at the mention of the late Goku, his cheer was short lived however as the boys began to laugh uncontrollably.

"What's so funny?" The android demanded.

One eventually stopped unlike the others. "There's something you need to know about this place." He managed to squeal, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Something you aren't going to like." The Gohan behind him added.

"You know I don't really care, unless this place can bring back your dead dad then I don't suppose it's much use to either of us."

That got their attention.

"Oh wait, he doesn't want to come back!"

It was Cell's turn to cackle, he banged the floor at the hilarity of his own words and ignored the pain in moving his arm at such a speed in the intense atmosphere of this strange room.

The Gohan's were merciless in their assault. Brutally stomping and crushing the android into the ground. They smashed his ribcage in and left his leg's broken and shattered as he lay on the floor groaning, helpless. Awaiting a death which wouldn't come. Not yet…

His vision was going black as he saw the grinning face of the super Saiyan looming over him, those haunting blue eyes effortlessly veiling the storm of emotions behind them. "Listen up." He suddenly demanded, his sharp brows furrowing as he spoke.

"This is going to be your new home for a while, but you're not worthy of living inside where my dad and I trained, you're going to be living outside, until we're done with you."

Cell was about to ask something as he battled the pain but found a fist embedded in his gut and it seemed as though the android was dreaming when he watched a wad of thick purple blood explode from his own mouth and dissipate in the air before splashing down onto his neck.

He was sure unconsciousness was about to claim him as he felt pain and the many questions he wanted to ask intermingle in his mind. Eyes closing, the android heard Gohan speak again and the words faded and blurred before the world went dark.

"Not all of us were able to get revenge on you for what you did, and this room is going to change that."

* * *

 _How evil is Gohan becoming eh? Sorry this too so long, forgot it existed, no idea where this story is going but I promise the next update won't take as long as this one did. I just need to figure out what the hell I was thinking when I started writing this._


End file.
